Regalis Libera Virtu
by KisaragiKei
Summary: "Big Brother, fighting Britannia... vengeance won't give me my legs again, it won't give us mother back!" The small change of Nunnally overhearing Lelouch's vow to Suzaku created a rippling effect that laid the bricks of a new path. A path which Zero never came into being. Only Lord Julius Kingsley, A different sort of man. No Contract. Multi-Gundam-lite Crossover
1. Chapter 1

**This Idea was stemmed off if Lelouch's vow of vengeance to Suzaku was overheard by Nunnally which in turn has her confront him as a child like her can both see more and less compared to those older. It's basically Lelouch choosing the non violent approach in his future and winning by economy, politics, and technology with the goal of leaving his gilded cage. I did this as a bigger foil to his Geass powers. The canon desire of freedom lead him with a power to take away other's freedoms. Why not make a fic where he is actively trying to gain freedom? Freedom from his world, his people, his family. All of it.**

 **Code Geass is owned by JNN, Sunrise, and Namco Bandai respectively in it's original Content.**

 **Any and all Fictional Names added to this Fic are owned by their respective owners. Which is Sunrise and Namco Bandai. These will be referred to as Cameos, Appearances, and Additional Cast Members. All subjects that relate to other fictional sources of entertainment are owned by their respective owners.**

 **Any and All names of people that have, had, or will, relate to any reader; Know that these are inspired by historical events and characters. This is in no way shape or form a way to depict people that once were alive in the past of the Anno Domini Timeline.**

 **After some discussion with my Beta/Editor. I've decided to change this into a crossover based on how many Character references and additions I've added to this fic, as well as some subtext influences.**

 **This will be a Gundam-Lite Fiction. And this includes most if not all Gundam Series(There's no multi Gundam crossover section).**

 **This is an Inspired work of fiction.**

 **Thank you, and please enjoy.**

* * *

 **August 10th, 2010 Ascension Throne Britannia** was a day much like any other. At least it was for the pair of boys which were rock climbing in the forest behind the Kururugi Shrine. One of the boys had hair much like a bears with brown eyes, while the other that was struggling with physical activity had hair comparable to the feathers of a raven and purple eyes. These two were Suzaku Kururugi and Lelouch Vi Britannia; children of comparable status within their own countries.

During the day, they had both reached a clear pond with an island at the center. It had been a few months since Lelouch had come to stay with the Kururugi house and while at first the two boys had their differences, they had grown for the better. Lelouch had taken effort in understanding Kururugi's home language while the Japanese had done the same.

Today, Nunnally was enjoying herself with Kaguya; Both had their own plans and they did not want the boys to be with them. It suited Suzaku just fine as he stashed some water guns in the pond just for this day. Long ago a man could remember those days, back when boys were boys, when battle and tomfoolery was synonymous with a water balloon or stealing firecrackers to make treehouse defenses. This was when those two boys forgot the world of their parents, and the world at large; When childhood freedom was so much larger than it actually was. This was a day that those two would look back in nostalgia, in want.

Lelouch being a physically weak boy hid behind a rock as a splash of water missed him by a hair. With a grin, he hoisted himself up and fired a long stream, hitting the water gun Suzaku used as a shield. The raven haired child wasn't done and swiftly threw the gun at the other. Lelouch used the distraction when Suzaku batted it away to rush forward, tackling the japanese boy into the pond.

Suzaku shook the water from his hair, laughing in joy. It was one of those few times his friend would take the initiative in a battle. Both boys were soaking wet but Suzaku didn't mind it as he continued to laugh. His joy eventually died out when he realized he was the only one laughing.

"Lelouch?" Asked the boy when he opened his eyes, standing up. Unlike what Lelouch would normally get up and wring out his clothes, the boy just sat in the water, staring out into the sky. A concerned look appeared on the Japanese and his eyes followed the general direction of where the other was looking. "What's wrong?"

The only response was a hurried grip of his arm. Lelouch had dragged him out of the pool and into the forest. The ravened haired friend didn't even pick up the toys that were there. However; Lelouch's only verbal response made the boy imagine a face that shouldn't have belonged on his friend, "We need to get to the shrine. Now."

The one thing Suzaku missed in the sky that his friend Lelouch didn't, was a pair of fighter planes blazing across the sky. Armaments could be seen if looked closely enough.

* * *

On the other side of the pond however; The Prime Minister of Japan, Kururugi Genbu gazed upon the wall monitor in front of him. His face pale as if chalk dust had covered the room, blanketing the many faces within the Prime Minister's office. On such a screen, Tactical approximations of three naval fleets belonging to the Britannian military were heading straight for them.

Genbu steeled himself, He was the Prime Minister! He needed to be strong for his people and thus commanded his cabinets, "What's the official word from the Britannians?"

"Nothing sir, the only response was 'We are deliberating on the next meeting about Sakuradite trades.' We only got a secretary to speak."

A man with greying hair and a receding hairline relayed something from the phone he was using, "Prime Minister; Two more fleets were sited from the seas of Indochina!"

"The Air Force already scrambled some fighters to the first fleet."

Genbu sat back in his chair as he looked to the left of him, A military advisor by some name he didn't know uttered, "An Invasion sir."

"What about the EU, or the Chinese?!"

The Japanese Leader had quickly learned both were silent on the matter. The EU especially as they didn't even pick of the call. The Chinese had a blanket response of 'sending their fleet to secure their waters'. It seemed to Genbu that they had been bought out by the Britannians. The man could hazard a guess.

 _Sakuradite_

The one mineral the world was drooling to get their hands all over. It was true Japan kept a low export of the ore to all three superpowers. It was their one sole advantage over the other nations and they hoarded it like it was their lifeline. In hindsight, the Britannians were angry last year as they received a third less than their competing nations.

This however; wasn't going to be the end of the Japanese nation. The land of the Samurai would fight to the bitter end. They wished for a battle, an honorable fight was what they were going to get.

"Get me General Katase"

* * *

 **BNS-CVB Swift Might**

Within the mess hall of the Britannian Navy's flagship carrier, Swift Might, held the first ever militarized Knightmare pilots. It was 6 hours till the soldiers would set themselves within the mechanized war machines and have the dropships carry them to battle and everyone needed to fill their stomachs with real food before they had to consume MREs.

These pilots all consisted of Britannians which had earn the right to be called a knight of the realm. A noble title not hereditary and such, each man or woman earned a position within the low court, not their families. Knights were the only ones ever permitted to officially use Knightmares as that was what they were made for.

One such knight was Jeremiah Gottwald, Son of Margrave Gottwald of the Floradian Province. He was a blue blood, a natural born noble, and as decorum commanded, he had sat and ate with his other blue blooded brothers and sisters. In front of him was at best he could say a friend. Kewell Soresi, son of Margrave Soresi, holder of York.

The two had been recruited during the same time, and had been bunk mates during basic. While Jeremiah would one day after a year in service join under the entourage of Lady Marianne, Kewell had stayed within the military as best as he could while complying with duties that one of his rank had needed. This left many years of separation between the two; While Jeremiah had in all essence withdrawn himself of the world of high court politics, Kewell had been part of many galas. This had lead to an unspoken tension between the two.

The day when Lady Marianne was killed, Jeremiah had seen the world of politics first hand. He was dragged out by his father from royal custody and watched his family do all they could to wipe his involvement in the incident. His father had ordered him to resign from the military but he refused.

He and Kewell were there, when the day Prince Lelouch renounced his claim to the throne. Kewell himself forcefully held the young Gottwald from rushing straight to the young prince afterwards. The court sneered and laughed behind their fans and sleeves; Kewell had warned him to not bring disgrace upon his family or the prince.

"Do not smear upon the dignity of a true purple."

It was a stain Jeremiah could never wash clean.

Kewell had stiffened when a small group of Honorary Britannians walked by. He scowled and Jeremiah could hear a faint insult, "Barbarians."

"Kewell", chastised the azure haired man, This was unbecoming of a blueblood. Honoraries had earned the right to be Britannians. "These Numbers had given up their-"

"Do not take the high road Jerry." sneered the other man. He wiped his lips with a handkerchief before taking a drink. "They betray their own and wag their tails towards us. Where is their pride?"

He turned his head to study the would be cannon fodder. The man refuted, "Pride doesn't feed their bellies."

"And principle does not matter in the face of adversity?" Kewell responded, quick as a lightning strike. He glared hard at the Honoraries before returning to a face of apathy. Years of court had raised the man with principles that clashed against the soldier from Florida. As he continued, his words no longer were of a young britannian, but as words of a righteous scholar, "In a few years, those Honoraries would be made full Britannian. True Reds. Their Areas were held in high regard as production, productivity, and security became firmly established. These… men, enlisted for joy."

To make his point strike true, Kewell added with a finger point, "Can you not hear their jokes?"

Yes, it was true. Jeremiah stiffened up himself when he realized the words spoken within the mess hall. The Honoraries had spoken so casually of looting as simple destruction of buildings and infrastructure it appalled him. The man paled as words of sexual assault came to his ears. This was the culture of honorary troopers?

In the back of his mind, Jeremiah could see the disturbing logic behind it. Honoraries didn't fall under the umbrella that was Britannian code of ethics. In fact, there had been rumors as to Britannian commanders of Honorary detachments to let blatant violations during wartime as long as it 'supported the war effort'.

"Surely they are not all like that." Jeremiah said weakly. There had to be upstanding military honoraries. A shrug was the only response.

Not long after they had both finished, Other britannian soldiers and knights came for their own meal. Kewell had abruptly stopped the conversation between the two before one Villetta Nu came forward to sit at a table next to them. The oranged haired man quickly gotten up and left, but not before he warned his future partner in the upcoming battle, "Stay away from _Vipers_ , Jerry."

* * *

Sounds of aircraft and a warning siren rang across the airwaves in Japan. Lelouch and Suzaku were already at the shrine when Nunnally informed the two of Kaguya leaving hours earlier. Lelouch had to refrain from cursing in front of his sister as he spoke out, "Suzaku, help me gather up as much supplies as we can. Canned food, crackers, bottled water. I'll get bags and blankets."

Unlike before when Suzaku didn't truly understand what was going on, he realized when the town siren blared into his ears. He didn't know what exactly was wrong, but _something_ was wrong, something grave. The young boy nodded as he rushed into the kitchen. Sounds of bags could be heard as cans banged against each other in it.

"Big brother, what's wrong?" Lelouch sighed when he heard the confused voice of his younger sister. The girl was innocent, and angel in all likelihood, much like Euphie. Lelouch grimaced as he realized he didn't have the strength to protect her from this. This wasn't the Emperor and the court, this wasn't the funeral; The words and insults that he drew away landed on him weren't here. But this wasn't words or a command of the Emperor. This wasn't something he could cover up.

The purple eyed boy responded as truthfully as he could, "Nunna, it seems that the empire is going to invade Japan."

"But… We're still here aren't we? Japan hasn't done anything wrong! What will happen to us? To Suzaku?"

A sudden spike of anger grew aflame within the boy's heart before he snuffed it out. He tenderly patted the girl's head, steadying his shaky hand as much as he could. "I don't know Nunna… We're not royals anymore."

"What do we do?" Asked the young girl. She tried her best to make herself as calm as possible. Ever since she lost her sight, Nunnally had to adapt to the world with smell, sound and touch. She knew her brother was feeling something, maybe it was fear or anger but, she knew she needed to be someone both Suzaku and Lelouch needed to get things through. Those two working together, anything was possible.

Unknown to Nunnally, her older brother's eyes narrowed in concentration. He answered while his voice gotten softer, prompting her to think he left the room, "First we're going to pack everything essential; Foods, bottled water, a first aid kit and blankets with maybe extra clothing. Then we're going to leave and find safe haven. Did you get that Suzaku?"

"I understand Lelouch. We could find a way into Tokyo, to a government building and find my father or Toudoh-sensei." Suzaku replied as both children hauled everything they thought they needed that wasn't nailed down. Both exchanged cloth and leather backpacks as they started to discuss and plan out what they should do.

Lelouch folded bed sheets and a few pair of clothes tightly into his bag before putting in types of batteries and a flashlight. He started the planning as both Suzaku and Nunnally listened in. Once and awhile Suzaku would put in his own thoughts, "If a full invasion will happen, Britannia will start with a quick bombing run to take down key areas before sending in ground troops. So we need to be really careful and stick to places where we know people won't be around."

"We can go deeper into the forest, The other side leads to a small town that we can use to rest." Suzaku remarked, if the siren was really going like he thought, then it would be best to stick to the wilderness.

The other boy nodded, he looked over the foodstuffs that were in front of them as he thought out loud, "And we can scavenge for supplies every time we reach a new town. People won't care about money anymore when war is in front of them. Do we have a can opener if we bring all of these?"

"No, I couldn't find it. We might have to stay with bagged foods. The crackers are fine but I don't think we can live off of these salted fish jerky."

Nunnally had quickly found her hand towards where Suzaku was. The two boys looked at her as she spoke out an idea, "Suzaku, can we bring a small pot or something? You and big brother could cook with it."

"We need matches then, Suzaku get a pot; We can make soup or something with that fish." The older brother agreed, it was a good idea if they ran out of water, boiling would help in getting stream water and whenever the night would get cold. Suzaku had similar thoughts as he gotten up to find a suitable pot.

"I know some of the mountain plants that are edible too. I'll go get it"

After a few more minutes when packing was almost complete, the two boys latched the packs on the handles and stage places of Nunnally's wheelchair. The girl herself was holding on to a pair of small bags to the sides of her seats as the chair was larger than her body. Suzaku found a metal can that looked hollow and handed it to his friend. "Lelouch I also found this. Will this help?

"A bin-bino-bi... A spyglass, Thanks Suzaku. I can look out if trouble is around."

Three hours had passed until the three children left the Kururugi shrine. The once home and refuge for the children was no longer safe for them. Explosions and gunfire sounded all around them as they traversed deeper into the Kururugi forest.

* * *

"Shinozaki Sayoko, reporting as requested." The voice of a young girl rang out in a room within the Japanese National Diet. She was a young woman of the Shinozaki school of martial arts and despite her age of 18, she was fit for the duties of a shinobi.

In the modern age, shinobi now either stayed isolated from the world at large, or they had taken service within the current lord. This being the Prime Minister and his cabinets. All other, more experienced shinobi had been posted all around the nation and she was to take the head of her family within the next few years.

Sawasaki Atsushi knew this, and as inexperienced as she was, she was also free to do covert actions whenever needed. Japan was now being invaded; Fleets of Britannian ships came from the north, south, and east of the sea, even the Chinese were containing their borders to the west. This war was going to take a miracle to win, and he knew exactly what to do to create said miracle.

"Your orders are to go to the Kururugi shrine and locate the Britannian royals there and bring them to me." It was a well known fact in the Diet that the Britannian emperor had thrown his children on Japan's doorstep. Official statements were a vacation to facilitate trust between the two nations. This was a lie.

No other cabinet member would agree to this but Sawasaki had known this was their only chance. If they could get a hold of the royal siblings, the Britannians would be reluctant in attacking lest the children of their emperor be hurt. He, Sawasaki Atsushi, would known as the man which kept the invaders back.

* * *

 **If you like this, I might continue this but with a more focused pov. That aside. Troublesome game will take a few more days. Sorry.**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is a mental exercise to break away from writer's block. Nothing to see here.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

A few shots of a magnetically accelerated rifle turned a Japanese Type 16 IFV into molten slag, but rather than taking pleasure from the expert blow, Jeremiah could only see it as shooting fish in a barrel. He frowned as the Glasgow under his command turned on a dime, taking cover behind a concrete building. His partner, Kewell, shot the enemy Type 90 light tank apart with an elbow mounted cannon.

" _This is modern war, huh?_ " Kewell murmured through their comms. The disappointment bled through without restraint, and he couldn't help but agree.

The enemy made a valiant effort to defend their nation, something which both he and Kewell honored and respected greatly. And yet the partnered knights couldn't help but see the futility in it all. The Japanese Type 10s, 90s, 89s' main weapons were too slow to acquire firing solutions on the agile mechs, as the invading machines weaved through building after building. Their cannon fire was dodged by just a flick of the wrist.

Kewell's voice was heard through the comms again. " _Let's just get to our objective._ "

"What about the infantry?" Jeremiah checked, even as he followed Kewell into the open. Squads of Britannian soldiers moved through their concrete jungle after them, like it was second nature. Well trained and disciplined, he mused. He moved the Glasgow's cameras to his partner; the other Knightmare stowed his weapon and drove away.

" _I refuse to dishonor us all._ " was his reply.

He nodded and left with him, all the while saluting his enemy from inside his cockpit. Mercy wasn't seen on the battlefield, but he couldn't help but agree. There was no honor in killing the defenseless.

Jeremiah was secretly glad they weren't dallying any longer. Finishing their mission objective earlier would allow them to search for their forgotten prince and princess. He would know what befell them, even when no officer above them remembered that Lelouch and Nunnally Vi Britannia were sent to Japan by the Emperor.

They spent hours driving across the ruined lands of Japan. The bombers from the Royal Air Force could only be judged as zealous by Kewell. The orange eyed man grimaced at the destruction in front of them; his machine's filters cleaned the ash and smog spewing from incendiary munitions, and the dead lay everywhere from both shrapnel and bullet wounds. The infantry must have moved ahead already, leaving this area for second line troops yet to arrive. He thought it odd how bloody this landing zone was, until he zoomed in on the nearest body.

"Civilians!" he gasped out in horror. Indeed, many of the dead were not soldiers, but plain-clothed non-combatants. The possibility of civilians being caught in the crossfire was long since established, since the bombing runs would be directed along the costal and mainland bases of the Japanese forces, but this was an obscene amount. They had yet to even reach within a kilometer of the base, and already dead civilians piled high around them.

" _Keep moving Jerry._ " Kewell prodded him with his own Glasgow. He looked on with wide eyes.

"How can you just move on?" his snapped question earned a sigh, and the other man emoted with his Knightmare, arm spread around.

" _They're dead Jerry. We can't do anything for them anymore._ " his friend's voice was tired, burned out. His HUD opened up a visual display, from the camera aimed at the brown haired man. A stern look appeared in his hard eyes. " _Finish the war quickly so funeral rites may be done. As opponents of the Empire, they deserve that level of honor._ "

Jeremiah hesitated with a nod, but he understood the other man's own view of compassion. The sooner they finished, the quicker the killing would stop, and the faster this unpleasant war would be over. A part of him wanted to rebel from such a notion, but he knew Kewell was right.

His factsphere pinged a disturbance a hundred meters from their current position, a switch was flicked to reveal his sensor uncovered by the Knightmare's head. Kewell's soon followed.

"A scream. Someone's still alive." he said quickly. The relief washed over him as they both cruised their Glasgow's to the disturbance's source.

What they met with were a group of fifty odd civilians of both Britannian and Japanese descent, followed by a group of infantry surrounding them with an escort of two watchful Glasgows. A second squad of infantry were seen looting the houses around the surrounding road, digging through the ruins for valuables. Silver and jade dangled from chains, while books and other reading material nearly burst out of duffel bags.

Jeremiah took one look and hit his megaphone. " _Stop! This is against the Britannian articles of engagement!_ "

One group of soldiers halted at the sound of his voice, one stepping forward to unclip his helmet.

"The commanding officer's busy at the moment!" the unknown man shouted back. He was a Six by the looks of him, the bronze skin and dark hair visible despite a level of grime. His feral smile grew as another soldier undid his own helm, revealing the visage of a Nine. Jeremiah grit his teeth, such impudence!

" _Honoraries_." Kewell spat. The back hatch of his Knightmare immediately opened up, and the man lowered himself out of it. A visor on his eyes relayed information, Jeremiah accepting the request for private comms. A service rifle was in his hands, a grim expression on his face before he used the weapon to bash the Honoraries' head in. "Get me your CO!"

A collective sigh registered in Jeremiah's Knightmare when the soldier ran off. The civilians' terrified expressions melted into ones of relief, while the Honoraries froze where they stood, no longer interested in looting the dead. Movement blipped on his Glasgow's sensors with various soldier's trigger fingers twitching, a marvel of Britannian technology.

He grinned. _Give me a reason you dogs. This Glasgow has selective firing.  
_  
The Knightmares on their end did nothing, prompting a curious request for comms. His request didn't come through, and a ping of the factspheres told him they were offline. He frowned in annoyance.

 _Arrogant, irresponsible!  
_  
"What's taking them so long?" his partner interrupted the silence in his cockpit. Kewell was already stewing in anger at the center of the group, surrounded by both soldier and civilian. None dared to get close, all except one.

" _Wait, Kewell. I'm picking up a man running up to you_." Jeremiah quickly relayed.

The man nodded affirmative. "I see him, Britannian... I recognize him."

"Is that… Stadtfeldt…" the young knight gawked.

Indeed, before Jeremiah's eyes was a man with auburn hair, wearing a tattered and ruffled suit. The man's face was bruised, but both of them recognized the man immediately. Despite a score of minor injuries he appeared well under control.

"The man who left his family to live here?" Kewell asked incredulously. An eyes trailed to the spot where the nobleman stood before, revealing a woman and two children watching fearfully. "He's got a family. Half-bloods."

" _His main family won't be happy about that._ " Jeremiah commented grimly.

Just as an Honorary was about to rush forward and trip the man, Kewell growled dangerously, raising his weapon in a silent threat. "Test me, Honorary."

"Thank you, Sir knight." the Noble nodded once, calm yet visibly gratefully.

Kewell nodded. "Easy, Mr. Stadfeldt."

"Soresi? Kewell Soresi?" the man gasped and turned his head, switching to the Glasgow still active. "Then that must be Gottwald's boy."

His Knightmare nodded while his partner leaned into to ask. "What happened? And where is this company's CO?"

"The bastards. He thinks since were in the fog of war, he can do what he wants. Nothing but minor families with desires of leadership." Stadfeldt angrily gestured to the surrounding buildings, rage written all over his expression. "As you can see. Pillaging during an operation, executing resistant prisoners. Even if they're Britannians."

Kewell grimaced. "And the CO, What about the devicers?"

"You'll see soon enough." Stadfeldt said ominously.

Jeremiah didn't like the implication, and his assumption proved true. Both men gnashed their teeth together a tall man with soft ivory skin and sunny blonde hair finally appeared, riding a small utility vehicle to the gathering. They scowled further when they noticed this officer lazily striding towards them had his attire put on carelessly; shirt untucked, coat ruffled, followed by the dangling of a belt that was loose. He looked more like a drunk than a Britannian officer, and he stared at the arrivals with undisguised contempt.

"So it's these types." Kewell said with an sliver of bile.

Before Jeremiah could comment further, Kewell was already on his way to meet the other man, followed by another Britannian who came out of another building, looking strikingly similar to the first. The pilot had a sinking feeling what was happening, which was confirmed in mere seconds.

"Did you have your fun? Bringing shame on the entire Britannian military?" Kewell snapped; only his rapidly diminishing chivalry kept him from spitting on this fool.

The commander (based on his insignias) scoffed. "They're Elevens soldier. Enemies of the Empire, and I will do what I wish with them."

"Japanese, Lieutenant. Until they surrender or their head bows before the Emperor's boot and the he claims them as such, they're still Japanese. They will be treated as enemies of equal respect." Kewell's venom laced words gave off a noticeable rise in hope in the refugee crowd.

"They're Monkeys! Not all men are created equal, we are greater." the uncouth excuse of a commander puffed up his chest with his proclamation.

Jeremiah had to laugh at that rhetoric. To see and hear a true Britannian echo their Emperor's words so casually!

"All I see is a pair of boys too small for their breeches. Are you not hiding behind the armor of a Knightmare without a dent on them while your Honoraries do the work for you? Or do my eyes deceive me?" he chimed in. For extra effect he moved the Glasgow's weapon a few degrees, causing the whelps to stiffen even further.

The fool's expression turned red. "How dare-"

"I see a new commendation for us." the knight announced happily, lacking any mirth. "Eliminating an artillery battery the Japanese hid, which unfortunately claimed the lives of a Britannian unit. It's quite brave. But on the other hand, rescued a group of Britannian civilians led by a Lord Stadfeldt who was presumed missing when the invasion began. Much better in my opinion."

Kewell leaned in with a feral grin with added emphasis.

"Wouldn't it be so unfortunate to lose 'brave soldiers' to indirect fire?" he finished lowly, flashing a toothy grin.

The fool blinked with wide eyes. "My Family-"

The speakers interrupted him, earning a pair of red faces from the opposing Britannians. " _Look, a dog with a pedigree. I guess you didn't earn your knighthood the real way._ "

"What was it the Emperor said? **The strong thrive and the weak perish?** " Kewell said loudly to ensure everyone heard.

Knowing they had very little odds, the Honoraries and two Britannians handed over their command to them. It took awhile, but Jeremiah couldn't help but smirk when a convoy of regulars and medics reached them. The Lord of Stadfeldts quickly returned to his family and earned himself a long meeting with soldiers on the ground.

He and Kewell couldn't dawdle however; they had a mission to do, even if it was a self imposed one. "Maybe we can finally get to our mission objective."

" _You've been reassigned, 22nd Squad._ " A voice appeared through their comms, but it was foreign to the knights. It was deep, scratchy as if the man behind the voice never drank water in his life, along with a dash of arrogance. " _We're getting reports of battle east of Kururugi Shrine. It's possible we caught the Prime Minister with his pants down._ "

"Their Highnesses!" Jeremiah breathed out, elated at the fact they would go and find the Royals so quickly. Kewell was the only one who noticed a suspicious chuckle from the voice.

" _Yes, Go find the worthless children of the Emperor and bring them back in body bags. No doubt the weaklings perished within the first 10 minutes of the invasion._ "

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes, ignoring the possibility of the Royals' demise and instead quickly hurried his partner back into his Knightmare.

Kewell scowled the moment his screens winked at him, after the machine disconnected from supply cables. " _Did that commander really speak of members of the royal family being too weak to live?_ "

* * *

They had taken the better part of the evening to reach the shrine. Especially considering the Knightmares had an issue with steep terrain such as stairs. The wheels would catch and spin in place instead of moving up like they were supposed to, a design oversight that filled the men with concern. But at the moment this setback forced the two to use the Knightmare's feet to walk, something which was an issue when it was constructed. The first mass-produced mechanized weapon, could only walk on flat land. More unforeseen setbacks, more hints that their wondrous war machines had more flaws than what they were told.

Their Glasgows stood side by side in the middle of the shrine's entrance. The location itself could have been a wonderful sight, if not for half the building sporting a gaping hole on the side while the roof showed wide holes from artillery shells from far out of sight. The corpses of both Britainnian and Japanese forces littered the grounds as they drove closer, the men careful to avoid running over any corpses.

" _Bit late aren't we?_ " Jeremiah heard Kewell quip. A faint quiver in his tone was all that prevented him from rebuking the man.

The perished soldiers had grouped themselves behind various makeshift covers, mostly from the armored vehicles themselves as the shrine's grounds was a barren landscape. The two stowed their Knightmares and covered them with netted leaves to conceal their equipment, before moving further inwards on foot. Mustang SA5s were in both men's hands while they cautiously prowled; as knights, they were expected to be proficient with many weapons, including Britannia's main service rifle.

With a closer inspection of some of the bodies, Jeremiah showed his partner the hole which tore apart the man's kevlar and went though his shoulder blade, eyes wide in realization. "These men were shot in the back."

"Sniper rounds, long range." mused his brown haired compatriot. With furrowed brow he pulled off a chunk of cooled slag from another body. "I'm guessing three oh eight. That's a universal, bloody hard to pinpoint the origin."

The two continued into the main building, training kicking in for them to sweep the place. He dug through a small pile of rubble for an unusual shape which caught his eye, and like a sleight of hand revealed the jagged main body of a laser guided bomb.

They halted the instinctual reaction of jumping back; the weapon seemed to be a dud, especially since one of these would have turned the entire building into nothing more than splinters. With careful consideration, Jeremiah wiped off access dust to find a serial number. His hand shook while he pawed, fearful of accidentally rescinding the dud status,

"AB-10 from Northwind Tech. Dillenger Air Force Base, Illinois Province." he read, earning a curse from his partner, and the two felt a nagging suspicion at the back of their minds. "Last I checked, most of our equipment came from Hawaii."

"You're right about that. Besides, air strikes would be counterintuitive if we want to capture points with Knightmares, not blast them to smithereens." the brown haired knight ruffled through whatever littered the floor, sifting for possible clues or even unusual dents on the wood while he grimaced. "It goes double for civilian casualties. The EU would use it as another publicity smear."

"Say, I don't recall an airstrike this far inland." Jeremiah mused, frowning as they two men continued to search. Locating a kitchen, they kept hunting for their prize.

"Is it just me or is the pantry sparse?" Kewell admitted, his hand rummaging through the shelves. Most foodstuffs not bolted down were scattered all about the room, with the occasional shattered glass bottle. It wasn't uncommon for a soldier to learn the experience of 'roughing it' even if they were blue bloods. Both men had been forced to cook their own meals at several points, and it was something they could be proud of after numerous cracks at trying.

Jeremiah walked along the wall, reading over whatever that had a translation into english. He stopped by the archway leading to the main room; cans of non-perishables littered the floor with many burst open, the wall drenched in soup. "Maybe they packed up and left."

"No opener on hand, I wager." Kewell mentioned, said device dangling in the other man's fingers to show him. "I'd guess we missed them at least a few hours. They may be children but they are members of the Royal family, bred and trained the moment they could walk."

"And if we're lucky, the Japanese son of the Prime Minister is with them." he added, pulling out a map of the local area left on one of the tables.

Just as they returned to their Knightmares again, Kewell halted Jeremiah before he activated his own. He raised a brow before nodding at the gesture of a finger over the lips. "Something's concerning me old chap. I don't want to chalk it up to some wanking flyboy being overzealous, but there shouldn't be airstrikes when the infantry are moving en mass. Let alone the ground installation of Anti-Air haven't even been neutralized. "

He couldn't help but agree with the brown haired man. The pieces weren't fitting together. Recalling a glitch on his Knightmare's screens when they were back at the convoy, he halted his partner. "Do you think…."

"Something's going on Jerry. Something I don't want to think about." Kewell said grimly.

* * *

"Haah…. Haaah…. haaaah"

Water rushed down his face as he breathed fistfuls of dust leavened air. Tiny fingers scrubbed and wiped his arms up and down from his shoulders, frantically wiping away the fresh coating.

 _I can't let her smell the iron.  
_  
His nose was still overpowered by the scents of bile and iron, sweat and mud. The unclean water rushed down his clothes, soaking him from head to toe, everything shivering from the weak breeze. Although his teeth were rattling, he didn't dare step out from the water.

 _I can't let him see the red.  
_  
Off to the side was the splayed form of a man, lying on the cracked and broken floor. In one hand was a cheap pistol, half cocked, and the other held the bladed end of a knife. He ignored the eyes set in a perpetual open state, just as wide as his open mouth. Red fluid leaked out underneath to follow a second source that came from his body, forming a tiny river.

"Lelouch! Lelouch, The fighting's over. Everyone left a while ago. Where are you?" came a shout, distressingly close. Too close for him to like.

"Suzaku?" the boy raised his head to call back. "Stay where you are. Is Nunnally alright?"

The voice got louder and louder, followed by a softer one. "Yeah! We lost the wheelchair… someone must have taken it during the fighting."

"It's fine! Stay where you are." he took a deep breath to halt a chatter of his teeth. "I'll come to you."

When he left, the pistol was nowhere to be found.

* * *

 **B/N: talk about long time no see, eh folks? Why don't you drop a review so he knows what you like?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't mind me. I was on a roll**

 **Chapter: 3**

* * *

"Where are we going? Are we moving to another place again?" Nunnally's soft tone made him wince, mentally comparing where they were walking to before. With a grimace at the painful prod at his waistband from the weapon he took, he shifted his direction to avoid the arm of a dead body.

 _Life is truly fragile… isn't it?_

"It's one of the Kururugi's homes." Lelouch said, scowling at the fallen man's open mouth, as if it was talking to him. Flies fluttered and trickled along on top of glassy eyes. "This time, it's the main house, okay?"

Yes, that was it. The Kururugi Shrine was nothing more than a summer home for the current Prime Minister's family. They hadn't dared allow Britannian Royalty, even former ones, to live in their real home. They were to be kept secret from the public. For what reason, Lelouch could hazard a guess.

 _Lies, Deceit, War, Destruction. Is that what all humanity has to offer?_ Lelouch held in a growl. He didn't need some voice in his head telling him facts he already knew.

He turned to see his friend stand blankly a dozen steps away, unmoving from his last check minutes ago. Gritting his teeth, it dawned on him of another responsibility. His friend wasn't ready. In spite of all that training he got from Tohdoh, the sight of blood and the dead froze him to a standstill.

 _Aren't we just animals with far less grace?_

It didn't matter. He was already being strong for Nunnally, he'd be strong for Suzaku as well. And now wasn't the time to break down. Not yet.

"Keep on walking, Suzaku." he directed, shifting the weight his sister hanging onto his back.

If anyone was going to try at their lives again…. _What's it like to hope?_

"But…" Suzaku's word came out with a whimper.

Not until Nunnally was in a warm bed, Suzaku drinking a cup of tea with his cousin, and he… He disposed of the pistol he pilfered from his assailant.

 _When all you see is the worst that can happen?_

His tone hardened, narrowing his eyes at his friend. "Keep walking."

 _Hypocrite_ He shook his head, blood trickled down his lips. It doesn't matter.

Nunnally sniffed the air roughly. "Where are we? It smells really bad here…"

"We're going by a garbage dump. Right, Suzaku?" his statement only earned a heavier whimper and clenched fists.

He walked closer when Nunnally started to lean forward, her hand tugging his shirt to the other boy. "What's wrong, Suzaku?"

"I… I…" he wasn't able to tear away from the corpse.

This wasn't the time. They were in the middle of a open field with dead bodies everywhere. They could be found, captured, killed, by anyone that knew who they were. Here wasn't safe.

"Nunnally…" Lelouch warned gently, getting her to relax her white knuckled grip on his shirt.

They had to get out of here. The Japanese would be furious to see Britannian royals alive, and they would assuredly put the blame on them. No matter how futile it would be, they needed someone to lash out against for the invasion.

 _Vengeance is a strong emotion._

"My mother taught me that a warm touch is good for tears." Nunnally tried, placing a hand on the boy's stiff shoulder.

The Britannians' actions would depend on who was in charge. If the group was led from any of the noble families of the Court, they would make sure the children be killed, used to help justify the campaign against Japan. If it were their other Royal family members….That heavily depended on whom would get to them first. Not to mention Suzaku's fate.

 _But a weak choice._

"Warm touches aren't needed right now. They'll be cold soon." Suzaku said softly, earning a wince from the boy.

"Do you think it's true?" Nunnally asked.

Doubtful, dear sister. A temporary fix, nothing more. The kind you're thinking of isn't here.

All of a sudden, the two boys felt a rumbling from under their feet. Their eyes widened in alarm, reaching up to the sky to see a fighter jet spin out of control and turn into a ball of fire. It exploded just as a thunderous chorus of screaming roars whizzed past in the sky.

The signs of fighting, and it was getting close.

Their eyes turned to see the tail end of a powerful machine, skating on the ground to take cover behind a tall building. Another machine raised it's arm mounted cannon to fire back at their opponents.

"We need to go." his words came out rapidly, snatching Suzaku's arm to tug the listless boy after him to a nearby sewer well.

The sight of a large ball of yellow fire was the last that the group of children saw, before they went underground.

* * *

"Blast it." Jeremiah bit out a curse, barely dodging from the concentrated ball of 105mm death. It was pure luck on his part that the weapon fire impacted the broadside of a concrete shopping center rather than him. The Japanese at their location were much better equipped and skilled than they previously encountered, something he had to account for as this would catch them off guard during the invasion.

Now however, he and Kewell were the ones with their pants down. The Japanese took notice and adapted quick, chains of command looked as if they restructured timely and efficiently, bringing a much more challenging fight their way. It just had to be when they were taking out their rations for a needed meal.

"They've got a capable commander at the helm." Kewell noted through their machines' comm lines. He nodded wordlessly in time for a missile to collide with a wall, nearly hitting his weapon to prove his point.

He returned fire with the Glasgow's rifle, tracking his shots to catch the rear end of a Japanese Type 96 personnel carrier. After burning through most of his magazine, the sheared metal casing of the vehicle revealed an empty chassis. He grimaced, those Japanese must already have unloaded their troops to their positions. "Unlike before… five quid on their previous commander being relieved from duty?"

"That's a bet I'd most certainly lose." Kewell responded with a chuckle. His tone sharpened when the chunk of building he used as cover broke apart from anti-armor fire. "Did you get a good scan on them?"

In a flash of splayed fingers, Jeremiah relayed his sensor data with his partner. A silent hum came out of his speakers as they both contemplated.

"Well equipped for some random patrol unit." Kewell noted; their screen flickered with a metaphorical affirmative.

Fifty infantry units were fine, child's play in fact when their Glasgows were equipped an M8 Autocannon, jury-rigged with flimsy control circuitry behind a thick slate of armor. But that state lasted until Kewell dodged a bullet almost literally made for him, in the form of an 84mm Gustav missing him by less than a meter.

"That coulda taken my bloody head off!" he yelled indignantly.

Jeremiah didn't have time to listen. He marked enemy positions he could spot, noting the heavily specialized equipment their enemy held, especially considering one of them was a heavily armored transport. "Considering what we're up against, I'd say they might be big fish."

LAW 72, M2, M4, M27... Needless to say the two Knights felt the irony of facing an enemy who used their own obsolete equipment on their state of the art ones. That wasn't even mentioning the enemy had a freshly manufactured _Abrams_ ; Still old, still decommissioned… but that was only one generation away!

"You thinking a major general, or even their Prime Minister?" Jeremiah questioned while he took his Glasgow behind a bombed out house.

"If not, I'm going to regret our plan of action." Kewell growled, returning fire with his cannon before using his Knightmare to relocate a few dozen meters to the side. A HEAT round smashed into the cannon, and his partner unlatched the secondary weapon from it's forearm.

He scoffed, making light of the situation. "Come now Kewell. If the latest of Britannian hardware couldn't stand against the obsolete, what would be the point of replacing everything?"

The quip earned him a laugh at the shear audacity. "If I still stand after taking a Charlie G to the face, I'll shake the hand of the bloody mechanic that made this thing."

"We did sell all of our equipment by the freight." he chuckled, thinking maybe there was a reason for selling everything at a 'stealing price.' It was just Britannia leveling the battlefield, to give their war machines a true live fire test. Either that or some criminally negligent nobles making money, but he preferred the former.

He swerved his mech across the opening, firing a few shots into a building which an anti-tank weapon was set up on. The roof of the building collapsed into rubble, and he hoped the men inside didn't get back up.

"Type 74 three o'clock!"

Without warning Jeremiah pulled his joystick back, his body sagging on his cockpit's restraints. With a dial press and a spin of his stick, his Glasgow twisted to return fire, only to snarl when his shots slammed harmlessly into the urban wilderness.

He gritted his teeth. "They're using the buildings to cover our shots."

His sensors registered Kewell's machine flip, landing on one of its hands to dodge a group of cannon fire. The mech's speakers roared with his partner's siren warning as the man responded. "Even we didn't know the limitations of our machines."

"It can't even handle its own weight!" Jeremiah yelled, the machine screaming in protest when he grabbed the wall of a building to make a forced corner turn.

"Watch out Jerry! They're aiming for the joints!" his partner shrilly warned.

"They know about the stability problem!" he barked, twisting the Glasgow to dodge a volley of dumb fire rockets. His machine trembled when a foot lodged itself into uneven concrete, a possibility he feared would prove fatal.

A cannon shot was blocked by his partner's arm used as a makeshift shield. Not to waste a chance, he return fired to destroy the Type 73 behind the tank, resulting a chain reaction of a collapsing bridge to fall under the following Type 74.

"I've had enough of this." Kewell uttered just as he dragged his machine out of the hole it was stuck in. Gunfire large and small peppered both machines as the brown haired man opened a small compartment by his waist. He pulled out a thick segmented tube in red and grey, and threw it towards a group of infantry. "Chaos Mine!"

They both huffed when the tube lengthened and opened up a hatch, displaying hundreds of square indents. In an instant the surrounding area in front of them rained with hot shrapnel, piercing through slabs of metal plating and concrete rock. The Flechette Munitions they were equipped with did their job soundly. Within moments, the hostile gunfire halted.

When the dust settled, nothing was left alive. Jeremiah nodded to his partner and they systematically took care of the rest. The majority of the challenge was over, and most, if not all of the enemy heavy weapons were out of ordnance. By the end of the battle, their enemy had only a single IMV remaining, with a small cluster of infantry peppering them with rifle fire.

Jeremiah checked his ammunition display and frowned, deciding to flick on his Knightmare's speakers. "Surrender Japanese, and you will see another day to meet us again if the war continues."

From a nearby car man with dark blue hair in an officers uniform exited, his head held high and sporting a defiant look on his face. A samurai blade at his waist was telling of his status.

"To surrender or to run is to bring shame when even a chance of winning is possible. To die on my knees or in a cell would be an affront to all of Japan!" the officer shouted with determination. His words sparked a roar of affirmation from whoever was left. "So no, Britannian. Strike me down now."

Both he and Kewell looked at each other though the monitor for a few seconds. They snorted before erupting into a full blown laughter.

"The rumors of Samurai having no fear did have some truth after all!" his partner roared uproariously, yet his tone was brimming with admiration.

Jeremiah sighed in good nature. "Kewell, is there anything on the scanners?"

"Aside from what's in front of us?" the man in question raised a brow. "No. We're clear."

He moved his Knightmare into a kneeling position, unclipping his weapon and handed it over to his partner. "Take my rifle."

"Jeremiah, what are you doing?" Kewell suddenly demanded.

He smirked, making the Knightmare under his command shut down. With a quick swipe of the key and a pull of the latch, his cockpit opened to reveal his uniformed body to his enemy. He exited tall and proud as a knight should, a Britannian long sword in his hand.

"Allow me the pleasure of facing a man of the old era just as we are." he said though his helmet comm. "They might know of where their highnesses are."

His partner stayed silent, only nodding to accept it before kneeling himself, but unlike him he kept his cockpit hatch closed. The Japanese officer in front of him glared, eyes narrowed before murmuring in their language when they caught sight of his sword. Casually grabbing his helmet to yank off, he tossed it away to leave his face bare for the blue haired man to see.

"I had heard much of the Japanese Samurai from historical records. Story say a master with skill alone can cut through a man and sheathe his blade before he falls to the ground." Jeremiah explained, sword held by his side.

The man gave him his own feral smile, understanding permeating his form. They both mirrored each other; raising their non dominant hand up to hold their respective weapons. The various men and women slowly stowed their weapons away in a guarded position after a rough command, surrounding them with a silent aura of respect.

"And I had heard a Britannian Knight can elude all defenses like a snake to strike a man's throat." the officer replied in the same tone.

They both slowly unsheathed their blades.

"An exaggeration." Jeremiah responded. It earned a chuckle from the Japanese.

"Should we discuss terms?" They both set their sheathes back into their waists, linking them into their belts.

Jeremiah nodded. "Should you win, my partner will allow your group to retreat with honor, to fight another day."

"And we will kneel shall I be struck down." The other continued for him, as he took off his own helmet to even the battlefield.

"Let us face each other as warriors, Samurai." He raised his blade to chest height, twisting the sword to reveal its side, and moved his other hand to the back of his waist. Jeremiah saluted with the poise and grace that defined a renewed tradition. "I am Jeremiah Gottwald of the Gottwald Family. Holder of the Floridan Province in the Holy Britannian Empire."

"I am Kosetsu Urabe of the Japanese Imperial Defense Force under His Imperial Emperor and Prime Minister of the Rising Sun." The Japanese officer saluted in his own fashion; putting both hands on the hilt of his blade that mirrored his, motioning towards the chest with a practiced ease which revealed a tradition that never truly vanished. "And I accept your challenge"

* * *

"Lieutenant Colonel." Kusakabe scowled at the Japanese infantryman that had the gall to scold him.

"Be silent!" he barked with a growl that silenced all. He looked through a pair of binoculars and marveled at his comrade's skill and technique, watching the beautiful dance of steel. With a gulp the man swerved his vision to the enemy war machine. "This is a perfect opportunity."

The enemy only had one machine active, with one of its limbs destroyed by cannon fire earlier. Carefully scanning, he noticed it's wheels were pulled up to its legs as it knelt, a sacrifice in reaction time if it were attacked.

"But sir! They are fighting with their honor on the line." Another soldier complained to him, which was followed by many others. "I must protest!"

"Honor!? What honor does a non-blooded Britannian have?" Kusakabe snapped. His patience gone, he twisted around to punch the mouthy subordinate in the face. What naivety that these men were feeling. Pathetically clinging to ancient beliefs that Japanese men and women were taught since their childhood days. "To fight Urabe in such a way is nothing more than an act of disrespect."

"Sir-"

"Think men." He scowled, gesturing with wide arms. "They aren't giving us any honor or respect in this. They're deeming us beneath them as they don't even think Urabe is worthy of being faced with they're greatest weapon at their disposal!"

He paused, seething while he glared at the flinching men.

"I can see it in their minds now." Kusakabe continued with gritted teeth. He reached down for a still loaded Carl Gustav leaning on a hunk of rubble. "'This blade is enough for these monkeys. They would never honor their deal."

His grip was held back by that same soldier; inwardly he had to respect the others' defiance. "I still must protest. If we do this, We would be bringing shame upon all of our people."

But this was something they had to do, he told himself. Resolving his determination, he let go of the anti-material weapon. The others relaxed when he relented his quest, but instead of standing by harmlessly, in a quick motion he drew his katana, striking down the man in front of him.

"Then you're of no use to me. Coward." he spat to the bloody corpse.

That one act silenced the rest and curbed their protests. Most of the turned their heads, not daring to look at what he was about to do. Others nodded fearfully and followed his direction, grabbing their still operational weapons and took aim.

"I have a shot sir." a man with an anti-material rifle told him, the barrel trembling with what he could only suspect was shame.

That shame would be over soon, replaced by pride from the top brass' commendations.

He nodded, waiting for the others to situate themselves. "Good. Make sure not to damage the control unit or the legs. It could prove useful when we take them for ourselves. Maybe our scientists can create a countermeasure fast enough."

The soldier nodded quickly, peering down his sights. Kusakabe glanced back to the duel and raised his binoculars, focusing his attention on anything he could have missed.

"Wait." he commanded. The attack must be swift, it must be accurate. Those anti-infantry turrets and the rifle one that war machine carried must be destroyed. In truth, it didn't matter if they only obtained one fully operational machine. "Steady."

The duel continued on with both men failing to defeat each other's defenses. Their attacks and movements served as a dance of death, showing off their respective fighting styles throughout the ages. Kusakabe had to shake his head. For Urabe to fight against a worthless enemy as a Britannian...

"Fire!"

Three sets of weapons fire reverberated into the air, causing anyone within a few meters to cover their ears. Flaming balls of lead tore through the calm air, landing dead center on their targets. The machine couldn't react in time, and its weapon arm, machine gun turret, and head unit were completely destroyed.

Kusakabe immediately ordered the troops under him to rush forward, their weapons trained on the teal haired Britannian. He had to smirk at his dumbstruck expression. "Don't kill them yet."

"Kusakabe!" Kosetsu Urabe roared with reckless abandon. The man's sword shook and trembled with an anger he nearly failed to control.

A pair of Japanese infantry grappled the Britannian as he hollered, "So you lied Japanese!"

"Lie? Japanese would never lie... to other Japanese." Kusakabe interjected before his associate could answer him. He had smirked harder when the other man face turned ugly.

"You-"

Not wanting to hear another word, he relished in delivering a rough punch to the Britannian's snarling face. "Shut up _Gaijin_."

"Kusakabe..." he turned his head to discover Urabe breathing heavily, fire in the man's eyes. He gestured for his troops to escort the man from the certainly taxing ordeal back into the armored car.

"We will be taking everything you have now Britannian." he informed the enemy when the second was forcefully thrown on the ground next to his comrade. "I hope to see what happens when two defenseless _Gaijin_ walk in the land they're invading."

In a few short minutes, Kusakabe and his men stripped the Britannians of everything they owned. Their swords, battle rifles, visors, and even ballistic vests. He would have preferred to execute his enemy, but scowled when every Japanese under his newly acquired command refused to do the deed. They all seemed to come together and defy him of that end, a line he sensed he shouldn't cross.

In the end, Kusakabe had to relinquish a set of radios and a pack or two of their rations.

The battlegroup quickly left the battlefield and he smirked to his comrade. "Thank you Kosetsu-San-"

Urabe smashed his hand into the side of the car, freezing him in place. All other occupants stiffened and looked away. "Do not call me that. You no longer have the right."

"I-" he tried to protest, but when the older man turned his glare upon him, he was silenced.

"Kusakabe… You have shamed me during an honorable duel." he growled dangerously.

He scoffed. "What I did has given the Japanese two of Britannia's state of the art war machines. Intact for our people to dissect and reveal its weaknesses. We will repel the invaders." he continued with a sense of finality. "Thanks to me."

"I will make sure to inform my superiors of this dishonor." Urabe uttered.

"You may try, but I think they will agree with me." he countered, but just as he was going to continue a shout from previous battlefield behind them had the Japanese tighten their fists.

 **"Where is your Bushido, Samurai!?"**

That one sentence. That one sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back for him and many of the other troops. A few of the infantry had tears in their eyes, and another few dared not even speak or move.

Urabe himself only had one final word before the company continued on to their intended destination. "Kusakabe, wash your neck."

* * *

 **Bit melodramatic at the end but it is Code Geass. Not to mention the culture of both of the armies are were still 'honor, nobility' and all that. Britannia never left the Middle ages socially, and Japan never lost it's sense of the samurai social class. The Timeline of Code Geass was WWI and then WWII never happened. Including a bunch of other things.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yes, I have been binging this. I'm experimenting on what happens if I write with limited words. See if I pace myself right or just not boggle down in massive narration.**

 **Chapter: 4**

* * *

"Big Brother?" His gaze softened from a glare to the outside world of the limousine, moving to his sister strapped tightly to the seat across from him. He frowned. "Nunnally?"

She was so tiny in the leather bound seat, barely having the power to move an inch any which way as the girl tried but failed to lean closer to him. He grit his teeth every time light glinted off the dried up blood on her face and legs, joining darkened black and purple bruises littered all over her form.

"What did you mean? Obliterating Britannia?" Her soft words made him freeze, like she dunked him in a pool of cold water. Did she overhear them when she was being taken to the car? He shut his eyes.

"Nunnally…" He said softly, looking down at his hands trembling with an unknown ailment. He looked out again into the scene of broken buildings and cratered roads.

 _It's for Mother, for Suzaku._

"Will it make you happy? Would Suzaku be happy?" He bit his lip when she spoke again without warning.

 _Yes, but..._ It's for bringing so much destruction and pain to their second home. Japan gave them so much peace that he thought it could have lasted forever.

The fight against Britannia would be long and bloody. He would trade countless lives, and they'd happily give it as they'd be just as willing. Britannia took so much away from them.

"You said it to Suzaku." she continued in his silence.

He didn't know what to say. What could he say? Nunnally was only seven years old. She couldn't understand what was happening around them. She never attended any of the royal tutoring like the rest of her siblings. No one thought she'd be worth it, not after the assassination.

 _No. They took so much from you._

"This isn't about being happy."

Her voice hardened so much that Lelouch had to widen his eyes at her, mouth agape. "Then what is it about, Big brother?"

"It's about making you safe." He continued hollowly. Blind in both eyes, and zero motor function from the waist down, there was no way Nunnally would survive in Britannian society. "Everything that's happened. It could happen to us again."

He watched her fall silent, until it looked as if she was choking on her own spit. With haste, Lelouch rushed out his seat to kneel in front of her. Tears started to fall from her persistently closed eyes. "Big brother. I'm _not_ safe... I-I haven't been in a long time."

He turned his head, not able to look at her as she sniffed. The girl forced herself not to cry while she fruitlessly wiped the tears away. "You have to carry me where ever I need to go. Sushi, Pasta, even an Ice-cream cone; I can't even eat anything by myself, or read a book like I used to back home."

His knuckles turned white the moment Nunnally squeaked out a wail. He should have known; it wasn't just easy for him to live like this. In a way, Nunnally had much more reason to act like this. She was seven, and less than a year ago she could run, walk, and jump around all over Aries Villa without needing someone to catch her fall. Before the so called incident Nunnally could read, watch movies, and decide for herself what she could and couldn't eat.

Lelouch knew his sister smiled and nodded to keep him from thinking about it, but he guessed after everything that happened...

"Will I be able to see again?" Her words came out in a whimper. He looked down taking her hands in his. "Would that make let me walk again?

 _No._ No It won't. Something like that needed specialized experts in the fields of medicine and robotics. But he couldn't say that to her.

"Or will our brothers and sisters cry when our family gets broken again?"

Lelouch was silent, processing the idea which never occurred to him. To fight Britannia in the end, he'd have to square off against people he knew, many of whom he cared for. Despite appearances, Cornelia dotted on her siblings and enjoyed spending time with them. Schneizel, ever the so calm and collected big brother with every plan in his head, still spent his days to teach and enjoy chess. Clovis, an artsy yet caring man with hardly a mean bone in his body. Even Odysseus, a man by everyone else's standards was the definition of a weak prince, had a good heart.

That wasn't even to mention Euphemia and Marrybelle...

 _You can't hide it forever. Clear and crystal walls are weak to suspicion from within._

"Everything will be alright Nunnally, I'll make things better." he told her, gulping despite himself. She needed to hear his lies. A sliver of hope and dreams. To know that things would get better. He couldn't hide things forever… but it was fine, just for now.

"You will?" her voice was hopeful and thin.

His voice shook as he squeezed her hand reassuringly, narrowing his eyes while he nodded. "Yeah, I will. I'll make you be able to walk again, to see, to play with everyone else. I'll make things better, I _promise_."

 _This world isn't wrong. It was the people in it that made it rotten._

Standing resolutely, Lelouch looked out to the landscape of destruction. At least until he registered a flaming bolt of metal heading straight for them.

* * *

"Jerry, you see that?" Kewell nudged him to take his pair of binoculars and pointed to a direction northeast of their location.

Honestly the two of them just wanted to get out of their situation. They spent the past few days scavenging for leftover food and weapons. It was folly of the Japanese who left them to die close to where their comrades' bodies laid, the men quickly locating the fallen. Even if the body armor of their enemy were shredded in part thanks to the Chaos mine, enough were partially intact to cobble together a functional vest, while other men still had their weapons available to be claimed. He mused over the scene in front of him when they got there.

"The car's armored." He said, eyeing the heavily sections of plating encompassing the cabin and engine.

Kewell moved over to the front end to check on the only man in sight, gritting his teeth at what he saw. "The driver didn't make it."

Checking the man's pockets did little to reveal anything to them, so did looking at the storage compartments and sifting through the empty passenger cabin. Jeremiah rubbed his forehead, something was wrong. Something obvious that he couldn't put his finger on.

"Keep searching, we might find a clue of some sort." He called out to his partner checking the area. They frowned at the unusually clean and clear cut destruction. It was one hundred percent targeted for the car, no other types of weapons fire or residual markings leaving an imprint, aside from a specific weapon made for that one purpose. And what it did, did a knob's job at it.

"Jeremiah!" He turned to the man waving for him over by a pile of fallen rooftops. He quickly made way to reach the man and was started by the sight.

Dark grey and black compression clothes followed by a balaclava greeted his eyes, roaming over the corpse covered head to toe with lightweight advanced tactical body armor in camouflage. Everything was a mishmash of origins that came from Britannia, Europa United, and even the Chinese Federation.

"Chinese make, good quality." Kewell started, pawing a heavily modified sniper rifle. From at a glance it chambered a whopping 14mm piece of death; Concrete, metal plating, it could shoot through a tank made to stop these bullets. He gave the other man a fearful look. No one would've been able to survive that.

That however wasn't the case if they were killed before they fired. The spotter was quickly found to the side with his fly down, his cause of death was obvious.

"And no markings on him." He murmured. They quickly took the chance to unlatch the helmet and face-plate away, revealing a strong jawline and white skin. "European descent…."

"Shhh-" His shoulder was immediately grabbed, bringing both to the ground. The brown haired Knight cupped his ears and he followed the same.

Faint swishing echoed across the open air, small enough to not be noticed as weapon emplacements, large enough to announce its general vicinity, and suspicious enough to realize it wasn't common weapons fire.

"We can make it, Kewell." He exclaimed. The two of them grabbed whatever equipment from the unknown before moving forward, covering each others' backs.

A nagging feeling wanted him to keep the AMR in case of sudden reinforcements, but they both decided not to for weight. Their journey was far from over, and it wouldn't be good to be exhausted partway through. Although this kind of equipment wasn't cheap, it was highly possible whomever they were going to meet were packing _much_ more.

"I don't like this Jerry. Those barrels are suppressed, no muzzle flash." Kewell warned.

He nodded, sweat trickling down his chin as the two of them checked buildings and corners for ambushes, despite losing time. At the fifty meter mark of reaching contact with possible hostiles, the two of them pulled their bolts to double check their ammunition, before looking over themselves to remember what they brought. A few grenades, flashbangs, an explosive trap, one Standard Rifle, and a Submachine Gun.

"Big brother!" The voice of a young child rocketed Jeremiah to launching himself towards the window of an apartment complex. This was a child's voice and it mattered not of their origin, heritage, or affiliation of their forebears. Children had all the danger in this invasion with none of the purpose, and no one would die from within his influence if he could stop it.

The sound came from a few floors above them at the apartment complex walls they leaned against. A fire escape dangled to their right and a broken window to their left. Neither wanted to jump in to meet with whatever was happening inside, but there had to be a reason.

There had to be a thread that connected all of this. The armored car, a pair of dead bodies fully equipped with a multitude of the latest hardware for a specific purpose and the sounds of battle from inside this building only what Jeremiah could guess as not even three hundred meters away. Running distance from said car.

 _Where's the child?_ Jeremiah frowned, taking the chance to peek through the broken window. Only to find a group of people, one Japanese woman, and two other unmarked, unknown soldiers in the midst of hand to hand combat.

Knives clashed explosively while some had pistols used in tandem in hopes to catch one or the other of guard for a killshot.

In great prospects as none had noticed them in this chaos, Jeremiah pulled himself back into cover. His eyes locked on to Kewell and the two decided to ignore the woman in hopes of the noncombatant being found. The child was more important.

Jeremiah lead up a set of fire escape stairs with great care as his partner laid down a directional explosive trap by the corner to cover them. It was messy, unprofessional, and callus to leave it unmarked, but they didn't have the time.

His hand propped itself into a fist, allowing Kewell to nod to him in silent communication. He pulled out a combat knife to jiggle the lock with a quick pop. In a moment and a push, Kewell headed in first SMG in hand followed by him with equal precision.

Knightmares might have brought a renaissance of chivalry, but every Britannian went through the same training when enlisted. Nobles, commoners, royalty, all were treated equally when their training began.

The first room was swept clean and the floor subsequently followed without a fuss. They followed each other in quick movements until they reached the third floor. The source of the child's cries. He rigged a simple wire trap connected to a flashbang at the base of the stairs to give them wiggle room in case of the worst were to happen.

Kewell motioned for him to stop. Sounds of feet rustled through various papers and fallen clothing revealed to them a fact. Multiple people, heavy, most likely adults; They both agreed that it was a possible hostile. The woman from below fighting against the two soldiers were a _bit_ small. Uncommonly so.

They motioned themselves to advantageous points in the floor if things went sour. Kewell nodded to him and he stated. ""Hold your fire! I am Jeremiah Gottwald of the 3rd Expeditionary Army, Knight of Britannia! Identify yourselves!"

Now all they had to do was wait. The soldiers from the other side fell silent as if they were communicating with each other. Shuffling and rustling of clothes did little to give him an imagination of what the soldiers were thinking.

Why didn't they speak?

The clink and a clang of metal to the floor had both of them widen their eyes. The image of a innocent looking ball of yellow and grey metal rumbled on the floor in between the doorway of their cover had them scramble back.

The explosion resounded nearly a second later. Sounds muffled in his ears while he ignored the high pitch whine piercing his brain. In quick succession; He dusted off the rubble on him, reoriented around the corner waited when gunfire paused and returned in quick bursts.

With his vision blurry, the man failed to get a good shot, and the feeling of a bullet grazed his cheek had him duck again. The fate of Kewell was unknown, and so was the fate of the child.

"Damn." He cursed, gritting his teeth. He wanted to fumble for a grenade, but feared if he would hit the noncombatant. With an pause in the hail of lead towards him, Jeremiah rushed to a new cover point. They were certainly outnumbered, and staying still was not the avenue for good tactics in this situation.

He murmured, "Crack shots"

The hostiles left no room for counter attack, suppressing him while another waited for a chance when he raised himself up to counter. The Knight clicked his tongue. They'd surround him in no time!

"Now!" From Kewell's words, Jeremiah went on autopilot. Pushing himself up right after a large flash and an explosion and trained his sights on the first set of soldiers. Kewell joining in tandem.

Four went down instantly, followed by silence. The two men breathed but didn't relax. Others would come for them and they needed to find the child and get out.

"Search for her!" His partner commanded, splitting off to another room.

With a roll of his shoulders, Jeremiah left off to different exit, searching around corners, looking under beds and even watching out for hidden closets. The quintessential hiding spot for children.

His ears twitched, registering the sign of metal stomps and he turned to meet the wind of curtains flying by a window. Of course, if the child was old enough, or if there was more than one, they in their mind would run.

But the fact they were in a warzone didn't make Jeremiah decide to rush out the window into the fire escape. There was always the possibility of it being hostiles, and he did what was usual to him. Slow methodical scan that covered his bases in case of enemy attack.

Low and behold there were two children. One with black hair carrying a _much_ younger child, the boy struggled with all that weight to climb down without making a sound. He grit his teeth, they needed to get out that exposure, not to mention he and Kewell already trapped the bottom of the fire escape.

With long strides, the man reached forward with a hand. "You children need to back up. We can get you to a safer location."

The boy from his body language alone looked hesitant; refusing to show his face to the man. The girl on his back whimpered as blood dripped from her brow. He got a good look at her face, and it looked striking.

"L-Lady Nunnally?" From his words alone, the boy nearly slipped and dropped the two of them down to the metal railing. It was only thanks to his outreached hand that the children didn't fall. He eyes widened, " **Your Highness!** "

"Come quickly!" He pulled the two up as fast as possible, unceremoniously shoving the children into a bathroom's storage room. The man called out, "Kewell, fall back!"

Gunfire rang throughout the nearby rooms followed by shuffling feet. Out appeared the Japanese woman they found earlier with a combat knife in hand.

Damn, his weapon barrel was too long. His shots didn't hit, and the woman was fast. The Knight dropped his weapon, pulling out his knife and jumped back.

She was good, highly skilled. Jeremiah wondered what her purpose was. At the corner of his eyes, Kewell appeared to them, instantly raising his weapon.

The Knight moved to get a clear shot but the woman threw one of her knives to the doorway, landing into the neck of a soldier rushing into frame.

He paused, breathing deeply to pull back from view, and Kewell quickly used the wall as cover, firing a burst which a thud followed.

The woman twisted herself to face the two men with the door of the bathroom behind her, he frowned. The woman spoke with a heavy accent, "I am Sayoko Shinozaki of the Japanese Secret Service. I ask for a ceasefire."

"And why should we allow that?" His partner responded, training his weapon on her. Jeremiah raised his hand up in fear of the man firing and hitting the royals on the other side.

"Because the moment you encountered Lelouch and Nunnally Vi Britannia, you did not execute them." Both men looked at each other with raised brows, this Japanese was protecting the children?

Inconceivable! She was by her own admission, a Japanese national under their secret service. An organization that not just protected the country's prime minister, but also was rumored to be affiliated with their special forces.

"... This got bloody complicated."

In any other scenario, the Japanese would have preferred to capture the royals for diplomatic negotiations, or quite possibly kill them in response to the invasion. But just as Kewell stated, this got complicated fast. If, and only _IF_ the woman was telling the truth, these soldiers were sent to kill the royals.

Dozens of countries and organizations flashed in his mind. He grit his teeth. "We'll continue this later. Parley until this is over, Acceptable Japanese?"

The woman called Sayoko nodded, and Kewell allowed her to open the door for the children to walk out. Now that they had gotten a good look at the two, The Knight's simmered in anger.

Lelouch's legs wobbled under the weight of his sister as blood leaked down his face, a bloody wound on his left eye, and a few deep cuts dotted his arms. The girl had a death grip on the boy with similar wounds on her. Jeremiah grit his teeth when the contours of a handgun outlined the boy's waist.

He must have used it already.

"We can speak after, Your highness. For now, we're going to get you to the Green zone. Tokyo's Kanagawa area's been confirmed as a civilian refugee center."

"So you've already taken it."

He nodded at the boy's quick thinking. If it were any other time, he would have mentioned how intelligent for a ten year old he was. Instead, he waited for Lelouch to frown. "We've been heading to the Former Lord Ashford, but our car was attacked."

"Then we'll take you there, I swear it! Let me bring some redemption as Knight of Britannia." He proclaimed. Determined to fulfill the duty he had failed so long ago, now given the chance to at least try to make things right. The children's' response was of confusion, staring or contorting their faces to try and remember.

"That can be explained later, Jerry." His partner said, urgency in his voice. "I scouted the area; There's a skyway leading to a second building with a parking center. Could bum a transport."

He and the woman nodded. Without much time, the group advanced through the hallways without any resistance. Kewell had taken point, followed by the Japanese woman, the royals, and finally him at the rear.

"I feel like we're being herded." Kewell mumbled, reloading his SMG with a fresh magazine.

The enemy showed themselves sparsely throughout their trek, and something about them made it clear that the way they battled was unusual. Gunfire came methodically with the lack of heavy ordnance. Sayoko didn't have a ranged weapon, and so the two Knights had to take in themselves to trust the woman whenever the masked soldiers got too close for comfort.

He and Kewell took turns in suppressing the enemy while the other spent a little of their remaining resources to set up traps, the devices were rarely if ever triggered. There were moment of disappointment, times of aggravation, and episodes of pure stress at the very fact that they were being lead straight to a trap.

He nodded, scoffing. "Innit feel like a bunch a sheep?"

Drawn out fights like these in Jeremiah's mind felt like a battle of attrition. Lack of attention and the simplest mistake would cost a life, and this group didn't have many leeway for mistakes to take place. They were just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Gunship!"

A rain of lead shattered the glassy walls that covered two thirds of the walls of the skywalk. The sound of a rocket launching our of it's tube was clear as day for the group and Jeremiah on instant covered the children with his body. The floor beneath them shook, metal supports howled into the distance as smoke covered their field of view.

Gunfire spewed from Kewell's weapon onto the gunship like a mosquito on an elephant. The man grit his teeth, cursing. "Never seen a model like that!"

He pushed the two royals into the waiting arms of the Japanese woman, hoping she would take them out of harm's way.

"Blokes are well equipped." he snarled indignantly.

From behind them, soldiers fired upon them while to their left held a Gunship of unknown make and design. Thrusters flared to keep the VTOL steady as it spewed lines of concentrated death at them. The blue haired Knight pulled the pin off a smoke grenade and threw it towards the soldiers. He followed it up with an explosive a second later to confuse them.

"Jump! I'll cover you!" He called out to the brown haired Knight. The man was separated from the rest of the group thanks to that rocket volley.

When the man reached up to him, he sat by a different end of the wall, he asked, "How are we gonna take it down?"

"I'll take suggestions."

They should have kept that AMR a few hours ago. Jeremiah searched all over his outfit to find something, anything to take care of the enemy air support. That was until he remembered they each had a set of grenades on them. He smirked, "Fancy using your cricket scholarship to work?"

Kewelll opened his mouth to respond, only to look at the last explosive between the two of them. He got the idea soon enough and laughed. "Cheeky bastard. Outta yer mind."

They waited for the gunship to stop it's gunfire, the sign of carefully checking over weapon heat. He fired short bursts at the pilot, bullets bouncing off the thick glass-like material only for Kewell to lob his grenade.

The little ball of yellow and grey landed inside a vent and moment later the thing exploded. With one of it's primary engines down, the VTOL could no longer sustain flight, twirling in the air before crash landing to the side of the building.

* * *

Ashford's situation was night and day compared to the rest of the warzone. For at least the surrounding area of one kilometer, military checkpoints dotted the main passageways into the safe zone.

The Ashford residence they came to was mediocre for a former prestigious family, but it was certainly better than most fallen nobles. Lady Nunnally was quickly taken to medical care while the Young Lord had a meeting with the Patriarch.

Which where it came to this. The group of three took a seat in one of the rooms in between the two children. Kewell rested on top of a crate and sighed while he paced back and forth close to one of the walls.

He looked over to the Japanese woman with her hand over one of her treated wounds. "What now, Japanese?"

The woman took a moment to think about it. She handed him a hard look, "I no longer will be part of this war."

The two men raised a brow at her.

"My superior has abandoned Japan."

They fell silent at that. "I see."

She nodded, her gaze turned to the closed door of the shabbily made medical room with nurses overseeing the girls sleeping form. "I owe a debt to Lady Nunnally."

"Jerry, we need to talk about that Gunship." He turned to see Kewell setting his equipment aside. The man was probably already trying to figure out the assailant's origins.

"Then we must speak with Reuben Ashford about it."

"What do you plan to do?" He looked over to the man when he asked that question. Wasn't it obvious?

Jeremiah looked at him with eyes ablaze, bringing a fist up as he proclaimed, "Isn't it obvious?! I will kneel and beg for his highness's forgiveness. And if he allows me, I will serve him from now on."

The other man only gave a wry smile with a shrug. Kewell understood what he meant, any noble of their upbringing would understand. They left it at a comfortable silence from there and Sayoko had given them a sort of understanding of her. The conversion from inside Ruben Ashford's office had taken an hour before the older man came out.

"You two may come in."

He was the first that nearly but respectfully glided pass the former noble to the office. Kewell soon followed after and just as they got a good look at a refreshed Lelouch Vi Britannia, the door behind them closed. They both immediately knelt with one arm behind their backs.

"Your Highness!"

They raised their heads up to see the young royal have his back towards them, gazing out to of the window of the office. The boy responded, "Thank you, you two."

"No, sire. It was an honor." He responded. "And I'm glad we were able to find you."

The boy paused trepidation came off the royal like a wave. "I… I hope our survival will be kept secret."

"We swear it." Kewell answered immediately before he could. Jeremiah felt anger. Of course; The royals didn't leave Britannia in good standing. And now, Japan would look at them with a similar light.

"Your Highness." When he started, the boy's head snapped to him. A sort of defeated but angry tone came out.

"Don't call me that. I'm not an heir anymore." The boy turned back, his back shook with an unknown emotion and both of the men didn't how to respond. They kept silent until the boy calmed himself down from the sign of weakness.

"Then… What do you hope to do now?"

A small palm cracked against the window. Lelouch's face mirrored with narrowed eyes. A boy that matured before his time. "I made a promise. Many promises that seem impossible. I hate Britannia…"

The men showed signs of tension on them when he said that. But it wasn't something they could blame the boy. They held their breaths until the boy sighed, defeated. "But I don't hate the people."

They kept silent as the boy continued. "I don't understand it."

"Why? What's the point?" Lelouch turned around, his arms spread wide.

Jeremiah frowned.

"All this death, this fighting; The despair, the dishonor, the disrespect. Where's the glory in mowing down the unarmed? Where's the honor in victory over the weak? The strong thrive and the weak perish. If that's true, where does my sister fit into this? Where do the privileged, the nobles riding on their parent's reputation fit into this? What does it mean to be Noble or a Commoner, a Knight or a Samurai? To be Britannian or something else? To be anything at all... Am I wrong?"

Kewell almost snorted. The man's eyes glazed over, reminiscent. His own experiences with the nobility of Britannia colored his vision. What very little exposure Jeremiah had elicited a similar reaction.

"This is rotten; A slimy, mud spattered cage that traps everyone. A prison of our own making."

Not to mention their own experiences the past few days. The minor families doing whatever they wanted. The Japanese with their hypocrisy.

"Ruben has decided to help my sister and I by giving us shelter. I don't think it will last long."

He wanted to, very much watched to refute the boy for his thoughts. Purely on the history of the Ashfords, they had followed and backed the late Marianne since her first appearance at the beginning of her professional and private career. They were Loyal; They stayed loyal.

Jeremiah just simply couldn't when the boy's emotions were so easily seen through his face.

"I'm simply trading one cage for another. At any moment, even if it's Ruben, someone will use us again. Nobility is more restrictive than even the commoner." The boy laughed, "Well…. Unless you want to throw it all away."

"I want to give my sister her eyes back. I want her to walk again. And I….. hmph, I think I want to be free." The two men took a breath as the boy took an expression of apathy. The children's fists went white, so hard enough to make him bleed. "I know this is selfish. But Jeremiah Gottwald, Kewell Soresi, will you two support me?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

* * *

 **So the end part still feels corny or cringy. But I can only attest to it as a very young Lelouch with a less sophisticated range of thought and vocabulary.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Woo! Here I am! And a new chapter to boot! This one will have to have disclaimers and stuff. what with a fictional AU and all that.**

 **Code Geass is owned by JNN, Sunrise, and Namco Bandai respectively in it's original Content.**

 **Any and all Fictional Names added to this Fic are owned by their respective owners. Which is Sunrise and Namco Bandai. These will be referred to as Cameos, Appearances, and Additional Cast Members. All subjects that relate to other fictional sources of entertainment are owned by their respective owners.**

 **Any and All names of people that have, had, or will, relate to any reader; Know that these are inspired by historical events and characters. This is in no way shape or form a way to depict people that once were alive in the past of the Anno Domini Timeline.**

 **This is an Inspired work of fiction.**

 **Thank you, and please enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter: 5**

* * *

"Terribly sorry, sir. Come again?" Jeremiah asked, not sure on how to process what he was told. In front of him sat a older man behind a desk, outfitted with an officer's attire with the requisite emblem denoting his position.

The officer leaned to his desk to clasped his hands together, displaying an unpleasant face. "I said, you are given the prestigious opportunity to be part of the new administration of Area Eleven."

"What's considered nothing but a desk job, sir?" he refuted heatedly. "I was pivotal in Uenohara!"

"And what created that situation in the first place!?" the officer snarled, Jeremiah shirking at his glare. He gritted his teeth when the older man continued, "The Japanese rigged their tank cannons on a Glasgow. The ones that I might add were taken from your command!"

"Sir…" He could say little at the insults thrown his way since the war.

"Who would trust a failed knight with anything besides what's behind a desk!?" he snarled with a slammed fist.

Despite his red face, the officer slumped further back into his seat to glower.

"You're lucky Gottwald. If not for that prestigious family of yours, we'd wouldn't be discussing this matter." He looked down at a file folder and unceremoniously shoved it into his arms. The man gave him little respect as he continued, "Now, Jeremiah Gottwald. You have a choice: You can take a pension, accept your post battle medals, and leave with your record, and your dignity, untarnished. Or..."

The man pulled up his pristine white gloves, placing his cap beside another set of files taken from under his arm. "You can take a position as a member of one of the many organizations now available since the conquering of Area Eleven. Unit instructor, company supply specialist, quartermaster, financial adviser, et cetera. It doesn't matter which."

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes dangerously, matching the glare with his own.

"You have a choice Knight." the officer sighed, standing up to put on a long coat. The man gestured him to leave just as he was about to follow. "Now get out. I have a meeting with our new illustrious Viceroy, Prince Clovis."

Outside the office he stood for a few minutes, maybe up to even an hour in silence. Until finally he smashed his fist into the wall and cursed, "Bollocks!"

"You get the talk down too?" he turn to see his wartime partner come to a stop beside him. He looked down to check an equally nondescript file in the man's hands.

Jeremiah lowered his aching fist to sigh. "Kewell, where are they sending you?"

The man huffed. "Same as you, Area Eleven. Keeping the two failures together, mitigates the screwups that way. No doubt someone of greater influence will be watching us like a hawk."

The two of them made their way out of the compound in a timely manner. For some odd reason they lost their 'privileges' of having a private driver, and they were stuck with getting their own sort of transportation.

Jeremiah clenched his fists, knowing what the officer told him was true. The war was over, and in retrospect it was an abysmal war on all fronts. At first the two knights felt loyalty to the wayward Royal children, yet they decided to humor the kids about the concepts of war and Britannia's ideologies. Any sort of immediate approval would've been suspect on all accounts. But now, they had to begrudgingly agree with the boy's childhood innocence.

The Japanese surrendered. Surrendered! What a two faced stance they held!

It defined their savagery as animals to the Britannian public. Their prime minister called for a do or die resistance, a proclamation of no surrender until they were beaten to the ground. Contrary to Europa United, the Britannian people approved of the sentiment. They respected the decision, and in fact admired the nation as a whole for such an act of rebellion.

It was the entire reason that despite being a complete failure for centuries now, Washington's Rebellion was a topic of intense discussion in schools. For a rebel, Washington was a man who earned the admiration of even the nobility of today. Contrary to the their outlook on the very man that stabbed their rebellion in the back, the turncoat Baron Franklin, a noble house which outlived its first lord by mere decades. A strange attitude towards one of the nation's founders, but one which aligned perfectly with the tenets of Chivalry.

Kewell suspected Japan, or Area Eleven, would have jumpstarted their position compared to the other Numbers, and maybe cut in line to become fully fledged Britannians after a two generations gap under the Empire's rule. Culture, food, language, holidays, even education would have been spared, adopted into the mainstay of Britannia. How else did Britannia consider Afro-Britannians as full citizens now? Not to mention the Welsh and Celtic peoples of the ancestral homeland, the French of the formerly conquered Canadian dominion, and even the many Latin-Britannian peoples? Jeremiah need only to think of House Douglass for proof, who's first head was born a slave, and died an Earl. It was a cultural tradition of Britannia, to take in the strengths of its defeated foes and add them to the Empire's overall makeup. Saint Darwin's wisdom applied on the national scale.

And all that respect went down the drain with the immediate surrender of Japan. Becoming Area Eleven not with defiance, but a whimper. A backwater of a rotten hole that no competent soldier of the Imperial Army would ever consider as a post. If he hadn't found their highnesses during the war, Jeremiah wasn't sure what would have become of him. Closing his eyes, he thanked them silently.

Kewell seemed to read his mind. "Don't you think it's dodgy?"

"Hmm?" he looked at him with a raised brow. The other man drove out of the military compound, and onto the roads of the newly christened Tokyo Settlement under construction.

Mere weeks after the war's end, and private companies working hand in hand with the Royal Corps of Engineers were already erecting a city on Tokyo's ruins. Their speed and efficiency was downright jaw dropping; Jeremiah wondered how long colonization was planned.

"Think about it chap. Every Noble, and I mean every single Noble, would know Ruben himself backed Marianne when she was alive." the brown haired man explained. Something so vitally simple smacked Jeremiah across the face. He scowled at the slowly growing tall buildings and support structures on both sides of the road. Each corner held a group of Elevens who didn't take part in the war, granted the generous opportunity to be the first of many new marginalized workers.

The man had damn point, Jeremiah thought sourly.

From the base to the Ashford Academy grounds was a relatively short trip. No competent Knight would ever leave a trial which could implicate their lord, so Kewell parked four streets away by a park which had seen better days. The two Knights took an empty bench before he responded. "You're wondering why none of them, especially our new Viceroy, didn't try to ask about the Vi Britannias."

"Exactly." the man beside him snapped his fingers. "This should've been his upmost priority, but instead his Highness doesn't seem to give a hoot. It's suspicious."

"I suppose you're right." It was too fantastical to be true. Such an oversight had him scratch his head, that line of conversation giving him something to work with. "Kewell. I have an idea."

That earned a chuckle, followed by the ginger man patting his chest as if he was being wounded. "Oh no, I sense a plan that's about to turn awry."

"Sod off!" Jeremiah responded with a smack to the man's shoulder.

The sat at a comfortable silence for a few minutes. They even had the time to get a sausage roll from a vendor down the street, moving to the Ashford compound on foot. Jeremiah voiced his thoughts between bites, "If we choose to stay in Area Eleven, information from within this administration would come easily."

"You want to be the man inside." Kewell said. He nodded in agreement.

Such an idea would prove useful in the long run; the ongoing investigation on the Vi Britannia's assassins proved fruitless, despite their efforts in securing the gunship those men destroyed during the war. These posts, no matter how insignificant, would allow them to start somewhere.

"Then I have an idea as well." Kewell piped up after they reached the upper part of the grounds' stairs. A mobile device appeared in his hands to show him a phone number. "We have a month's leave after this, and I noticed Ashfords didn't have the kind of education for a certain child."

He delivered the man a twisted smile. If Jeremiah was correct, this was a person neither man had seen in a long time. "I don't think the old codger would be quite chuffed about the prospect."

* * *

 **Britannian Mainland - Illinois Province, Chicago District**

Jeremiah coughed roughly at the cold gust of the great city of Chicago. Off to the side, he glared at his friend Kewell who seemed to relish the cool breeze that came off Lake Michigan, something he had yet to acclimate to.

When they were given the chance for leave before their next deployment (something they had to endure much humiliation from within the political and military spheres. Not to mention familial matters.), they called upon their previous contacts from their younger years in search of an elusive fellow. At least until now, they spent the better part of their time off searching. The old man, in Jeremiah's own opinion on him, no longer worked at the Illustrious University of John Hopkins. And this was why they were lazing about by the Great Lake; Across the waters by the coast held the sight of the Chicago spires. A trio of high rise skyscrapers reaching nearly three kilometers in height, nicknamed the Trinities.

"Think we'll spot that old duck?" he asked through a shiver. The two of them decided to hoof it as a precaution. The Homeland was a dangerous place, not so much for the commoners, but for two scions of nobility? Politics followed, stories of traces, bugs, and data mining for any sort of information from one noble to another, occurred often. This was why they rejected any noble or a lower level officer who tried to curry favors.

"It's our only chance." Kewell responded, scanning the horizon for their target. He widened his eyes at what was ahead of them. "Blimey, look at that crowd."

Today was to be the start of the IPX, The International Protections Exhibition hosted at the Trinities. Since the end of the Invasion of Japan, and the reveal of the Knightmare Frame; Britannia was at the forefront of all other nations in military technology. Thousands upon thousands of diplomatic officials, defense contractors, and military leaders flooded the city. That wasn't to mention the countless average citizens vying their way in, and with those were the media. All wanted to get a peek at the newest technologies Britannia developed.

An academic conference which happened to meet around the block on the same days was completely overshadowed. Streets were filled with tourists, both foreign and domestic, as helicopter drones from news stations whizzed by the skylines. Boys in blue patrolled the streets, but left a buffer zone of the spires to its own private security.

"Just a buncha gabbers." Jeremiah scoffed with a smile. His expression turned for the worst when he got a look at the parade coming by, focused on the center of the event. Riding at the head of the procession was a Glasgow for all the world to see. "And look at the devicer!"

"Indeed, It's barely standing upon its own weight."

The two men hastily turned to see an elderly man in an old suit and tie, looking to be in his late sixties. A blazing smile showing his youthful emerald gaze appeared before them, as a long mane of stark white hair parted to his shoulders. The man tapped his cane as he looked up at the Knightmare, and laughed.

"I'll hand it to them to use an expensive gyroscope coupled with the subsystem that's compensating its weight distribution." The man nodded with a tone of finality, "But overall, I'd have to say nothing more than a workaround to make the Ganymede commercially viable."

"Professor Eifman!" he and Kewell called out. The man they were looking for!

Their objective chuckled when he turned to the younger men, holding out a hand. "Heard up the grapevine you lads were looking for me."

"Professor, It's been awhile" Jeremiah said, taking his surprisingly firm grip to shake. The man looked no worse for wear, these years did little to age him.

After shaking with Kewell the trio attempted to find a seat. Tried being the key word, the voluminous crowds made finding an open bench a challenge. That was until the two knights noticed a man in his fifties, flanking an old familiar professor from their university days. The man gestured for them to sit by a corner, near the Expo entrance.

"Donkey's year since some of my past alumni walked on the old school grounds. Students I might add; A buncha cheeky gits who couldn't rub two particles together." Before the two knights could ask for the stranger's identity, Eifman playfully teased the two knights. Kewell rubbed his head in embarrassment as he roughly gestured to a waiter for a glass of water, covering up his expression.

The professor mused, looking up to the city skyline where a delta formation of Britannian jets flew in for a show. "Quite a class I had. So, you boys in the military as tradition dictates?"

"Yes, sir. But… things are a bit different since then." Kewell responded tightly, the man's eyes twitched at the stranger near them.

"Ahh, I hadn't introduced you." Eifman huffed at his own mistake. The old man gestured for the other man to approach, light brown hair graying with age spiked above his head as clear eyes gave off a wizened look. The man absently rubbed a scar on the side of his face as Eifman held an arm to him. "This is Crank Zent, a friend of mine."

Bells rang in his head. When he turned to meet Kewell's own, they realized the man's reputation preceded him. Without second thought the two men bolted to their feet to salute. "Lieutenant Crank Zent of the Area Six Disaster?!"

"Ease it, Knights." Crank said easily, gesturing to make them sit. The man sniggered as he looked at them, followed by a long gaze at the some of the nearby Exhibition security. "I left with disgrace some time ago. From that kinda greeting, I'll guess Area Eleven went abouts the same?" The former soldier frowned when both men glanced away. "A shame."

Jeremiah shook his head, having nearly forgotten what their objective was. "Professor, I know you have business to attend to."

"Nonsense!" Eifman waved it off like it meant nothing to him. He smiled as he nodded, "The Conferences' been postponed."

The old man thought for a moment before clasping the nearest Knight on the shoulder, his expression turning sly. "I was thinking about meeting a few colleagues who made it here before the schedule change. How about you two join me?"

The two looked at each other before nodding. "Then, please. Lead on."

The four strong group moved through the Trinities' famed central square, before passing a double lane crosswalk into a nearby shop. Before they even opened the door, screams and yells were heard through the glass, as nearby bystanders gave the place a wide berth. This was an empty diner?

Eifman shrugged before letting himself in, holding the door open for the others. The sudden change of the IPX tourists shifted towards a completely different sight.

The Diner was stuffed, filled to the brim with men in dusty looking suits, ranging from their late forties to the low nineties. Each and every single one of them were screaming and arguing with each other, a din great enough to overpower the outdoor drone. Chalkboards were filled with mathematical equations neither knight would be willing to even try and understand. Each time a number or a symbol was erased, another found it's way there, courtesy of a man in old era suits with long coats billowing in the air conditioned room.

"No! No! I disagree with that hypothesis."

"What part of it do you challenge ehh? The part where an Atom cannot be allowed more than one state?"

"Exactly! Of course Atoms while in motion create heat, it doesn't allow the existence of Zero-Point-Energy."

"Artificial induction of absolute zero temperatures aren't feasible!"

Jeremiah stood there, sack jawed at the sheer level of participation. Every man had a point to say. Eifman had already moved close to stand with his colleagues to join in the conversation, almost as if he was there since the beginning.

"Then how out your proposed idea of this… Atomic energy being available without killing ourselves ehh? We have the Sun as a perfect example!"

"It's not as if we can try, Eifman. The world's moved on to Sakuradite. Einstein's idea of Plutonium and Uranium was abandoned."

"Yes, and Sakuradite can't be found anywhere else but here. Asteroids, spectrographic analysis of Mars, Venus, and the Moon, doesn't matter. Only on this planet. It has an astronomically low abundance ratio."

"Sakuradite doesn't emit as much radiation as we'd expected, Wiener."

"That's enough of that Fermi. Can we move on to this idea of the theory of Dark Matter? The age of the Atom is no longer in their field of view."

"Then we must discuss about the notion on how Dark Energy being observable, Planck."

"I for one am grateful none thought it was a good idea to smash atoms together to create an explosive amount of energy."

"That we can all agree with, Helmholz."

* * *

She turned her head up to the voice Milly, she could tell where she was by her breath and the body heat the other girl radiated to her side.

"Nunna, Lulu and Grandfather has guests coming in."

Yes, guests. She thought it was those soldiers that saved them back during the invasion, but that wasn't the case. They were coming sure, but they were bringing more people to see them.

She tightened her fists to the quilt laid over her knees. New people, strangers that she was afraid of meeting. A long time ago, she would've been happy. To see their faces and commit them to memory, to know greet them head on with a smile and jumping in place over her brother's back to know if what they did for a living.

Now, all she had was smell and hearing. She curled her arms to her sides in case she bumped painfully against the table in front of her, she had done so a few days earlier and earned spilt tea all over her clothes.

She didn't want to get burned again.

"Really? Do you know they'll be coming?" Eating and drinking was difficult for her. Her brother and Milly wouldn't mention the fact that she pushed cups and utensil her way whenever it took a long time for her to find them. The sound of metal forks or porcelain cups followed by grating flesh to the wooden furniture was clear to her.

She smiled like always at the other girl, waiting for a response.

"Hmmm. I don't know. Lulu says within minutes. Maybe we get to go outside later!"

Yes, outside. The heat from the sun would only make her wish she could see the great blue sky again, and the smell of flowers only told her of the beauty and peace she was missing out on.

"Ruben! It's been awhile."

"My lord. What a gaggle of compatriots that have appeared to me. What'd bribe did they hand to you huh? Tell me!" The sounds of laughter and elderly voices resonated through the closed door of her tiny little room.

Nunnally was cold. So cold that not even a hot spring would warm her up.

"This is Le-"

"Lelouch Vi Britannia, what a surprise."

"I'd like to keep my identity shadowed for the foreseeable future Mr...?"

"My eyes can't fool me! You're going to have to do a lot better than that."

"Might I suggest a hair dye, and colored contacts? Purple coloration of the irises was impossible until you royals were born."

"We'd have a tizzy in debates if they were doctored!"

"I also suggest a name change. Lamperouge? Really, I can understand as you're a child. But you Ruben? How obvious do you have to be?"

"How about Julius? A strong name. He whom is devoted to Jupiter."

She knew what blood smelled like, the sounds of gunfire and agony that permeated her senses so much that not even her brother's stern words to Suzaku couldn't make her believe him like she once did.

Nunnally didn't register the door opening for sets of footsteps entering the room.

The awful stench of rotting flesh only told her how pathetic she was. The need for her brother to watch her every hour of everyday only made it known that she was bothering him from taking care of himself. That wasn't to mention the embarrassment of asking someone to lead her to the lavatory every few hours. Sayoko's gentle massages with her callous fingers only made her realize she couldn't even give herself a bath without help.

"Younger dame! Don't move and let me see." A pair of withered hands grasped her head, they smelled of wood and the scent of old books. They felt like soft leather yet faintly warm. A pair of fingers pried at her eyelids and she resisted a whimper.

"Undenkbar, your pupils aren't dilating, kleiner." The old man said in a wheeze, as if he was so old that it was an undertaking to travel to her.

Another voice of a much younger man said in the distance. Papers rustled between multiple hands as more voices congregated together. "Her X-rays and MRI scan tell otherwise."

Nunnally frowned and pulled her hands tight.

"Let me see that." the old man said once again, papers ruffled as he mumbled through various words and numbers. "unmöglich! Her eyes are supposed to be fine!"

She was afraid of the dark. The unknown that was now permanent to her. To know her eyes were perfectly fine only told her how useless she was. Her lips quivered and she bit it to keep them silent.

Another set of hands brimming with energy shined a light to her eyes. She knew it was a light as heat touched her. "There's no blockage in the optic nerve. She's looking at where the light is, but it's not registering."

"Is it a physical disconnect to her brain?"

"I don't know, but it's certainly not psychological. Whoever made that diagnosis is a complete hack!"

A stone fell into her belly. It wasn't some unknown disease, or an effect of what happened that day. It was purely her. The reason why she couldn't see was all her fault.

"Nunna, it'll be alright." A pair of hands grabbed her own, so warm to the touch and the faint scratches on his fingers told her all she needed to know.

 _I'll make you be able to walk again, to see, to play with everyone else. I'll make things better, I promise._

Her brother promised. And she believed he could, no, _would_ make it possible.

As more and more voices roared out into the room, faint images of the people that beheld those voices slowly appeared in her mind. Men in glasses of many places and origins, wearing long billowing white coats over fine woolen suits, and at the center was her brother in the same clothes with a pair of glasses that denoted his intelligence. She smiled to the unknown.

She'd just have to wait a little longer. And maybe prepare herself for the day she could walk again.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm telling you straight up. This is a Timeskip. But not a major one. I'll be making a few timeskip chapters and an other chapter. The real part of the story will start right after these.**

 **Code Geass is owned by JNN, Sunrise, and Namco Bandai respectively in it's original Content.**

 **Any and all Fictional Names added to this Fic are owned by their respective owners. Which is Sunrise and Namco Bandai. These will be referred to as Cameos, Appearances, and Additional Cast Members. All subjects that relate to other fictional sources of entertainment are owned by their respective owners.**

 **Any and All names of people that have, had, or will, relate to any reader; Know that these are inspired by historical events and characters. This is in no way shape or form a way to depict people that once were alive in the past of the Anno Domini Timeline.**

 **This is an Inspired work of fiction.**

 **Thank you, and please enjoy.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter: 6**_

* * *

 _2012 Ascension Throne Britannia (Date Unknown)_

 _To: BartleyAA11 Britmill . com  
Bcc: GottwaldJA11_ _Britmill . com_ _  
Re: Inconsistencies_

 _Dear, Gen. Bartley Aspirus, Britannian Military of Area Eleven. This email is to inform you of the recently discovered inconsistencies of the financial records pertaining to Area Eleven's Military Administration._

 _Sir. It is to my knowledge as the Britannian Administration Supply Specialist of Area Eleven that I must urge you to investigate the sudden changes and loss of our resources. The Area budget has lost a grand total of 3.4 million pounds sterling over the last two years, with no clues as to where these funds could have gone. I understand discretionary spending is on a case by case basis, however, this is an obscene amount that requires strict record keeping._

 _In addition, it has come to my attention that the Military's overall readiness has declined sharply. Two companies of ground troops and eighteen knightmares have been assigned to a new post, with no record indicating of where this new post is located, or what its duties entail. If they haven't gone AWOL, I implore you to send me the renewed order papers of where these men and women were to be stationed.  
_

Diethard Ried smiled in glee at the data mined emails that he was able to acquire. Sure, they weren't in complete shape, but that didn't matter. He smelled blood in the water, and no journalist with their right mind would ignore this bait!

The idiots at the station didn't know what was good news unless it slapped them right in the rear! They didn't give him any approval; no truck, no equipment, no extra set of hands at all.

"Mr. Reid, I found some more emails that might be useful to you." said his female assistant while she took a seat, making him mentally amending the last part. With her greeting came another paper, which he quickly snatched.

Thanks to the department head refusing to pursue this matter, Diethard had to find some unconventional help. Said help came in the unexpected form of one Kinue Crossroad, one of the first Elevens to obtain the honorary status. For whatever reason he didn't care about her status. All he wanted was if she could operated a camera.

Surprise, surprise, Ms Crossroads was a lowly intern at a news agency before the invasion. What luck!

"What's this?!" he screamed out of the small alcove at a nearby shop, close enough to the surveillance equipment he had to pay top quid for. Money well spent with these results.

 _To: FloridasOrange KField . com  
Re: A Young Boy_

 _I won't say this is a problem per say, but I had just gotten word of Lord Stadtfeld coming onto the base to meet me. Says he's got a son, my guess is that half-breed we saw when those poor excuses of Britannians tried have their 'fun' with those noncombatants. Call the boy by Richard. Richard_ _Stadtfeld_ _. Not a bad name, but the wanker's jokes he's got to endure. Hahaha!_

 _However, this might put a damper on our plans. I'll have to end up taking the boy as an apprentice, if not than it would be a slight against the_ _Stadtfeld_ _. He seems behaved enough at least._

 _To: NewYorkCheesecake_ _KField . com_ _  
Re: A Young Boy_

 _How about you just send him to Julius at the start? It would open up our options and maybe we can get the_ _Stadtfelds_ _to support it. The boy is the family heir, for better or worse for the rest of the house back in the homeland._

"Perfect" Diethard breathed out, rereading the paper and grinning wildly. Something he didn't know he wanted landed straight on his lap!

Julius Kingsley! The enigma of a rising star in the business world. The man bought and sold stocks to the highest bidder, invested and bought companies only to destroy them with little thought. A growing number of investors were learning about this unknown variable, and the more power he gained, the more fear he raised in the financial sphere.

The man known as Julius single handedly funded Ashford Academy and started a Private Military Contractor company, which oddly enough was seen in the highest of regards despite its short history. If that wasn't enough, word flowed down the grapevine that Kingsley was starting to sponsor Elevens for work permits, and even helping recruit Honoraries in the face of the Purebloods objections. For whatever reason, he didn't know. But the first act the man did with his new wealth was bid for the rights to Kanagawa Prefecture.

This was a gold mine!

* * *

"We've been able to set up new identities for you my boy."

He nodded at the older man, one he'd personally known only for a short time. Ruben Ashford was able to succeed on his end, although the power and influence he wielded now was minor after the loss of his Noble title. It had taken two whole years until it came through.

Lelouch Vi Britannia, Lelouch Lamperouge…. Was no more.

He stared at the official documents dispassionately. Signed and sealed with genuine wax, embedded by official emblems of the Imperial Heritage and Bloodline Office. A remnant of an old practice, in the days where Britannia was rife with constant domestic conflicts and foreign wars. A time when bastards were born and left abandoned without homes and names to call their own. It was a muddled age for many old bloodlines, which this office was founded to sort out.

 ** _Julius Kingsley  
Born: July 10th, 1999 a.t.b  
Sire: Unknown  
Dam: Unknown  
Blood Type: A  
Hair: Black  
Eyes: Brown  
_**  
 _ **Status:**  
 **Peerage: None**  
 **Citizenry: Holy Britannian Empire**  
_  
"Le-"

He raised a hand from his seat, located at the couch near the room's center. With his identity secured, Lelouch was able to manage a few things with a more hands on approach.

With his eyes returning to the laptop screen he was able to acquire, he spoke. "I'm Julius now. It's better to start the habit before we make mistakes."

"Of course, Julius." Ruben nodded to himself, flashing an unhappy look.

He nodded. "Did we get one for Nunnally?"

"Yes." the older man responded swiftly.

"I want to be the one to tell her. Afterwards inform everyone to refer to her as Eirene from now on." he stated while he committed the document to memory.

A frown appeared on his face as he turned to the closed door, imagining wherever his sister was at this time of the day. He didn't know how to tell her about the new changes he was making, but he knew he had to tell her the truth. If they kept their names, even their given names; it wouldn't take long for someone to catch on. By changing like this, a pursuer would turn a blind eye for one reason or another, most certainly because of someone of a higher standing didn't think they were worth the effort.

The boy sighed. "My apologies on putting so much work upon you Ruben."

"Not at all. I would have never had known renowned academics would settle in Area Eleven so readily." the aging headmaster of his infant school beamed. "It's made the Academy so much better."

"However; they have a very high bar when it comes to expectations of their students." Lelouch responded, gazing at the lights with an unknown feeling. The professors were an unusual breed, that much was obvious. But despite their eccentricities he held high hopes for them.

"I concur. I'm going to have to put restrictions for applicants, increase funding for quality of life, and create whole new wings. It's becoming less and less of a school and more of a research institute." The man chuckled while filing through various records, many of the packets as think as novellas. He thought this was a second wind for the man, and anyone who knew him could tell he was giving this project his all.

"Then do so."

Ruben raised a brow. "Whatever do you mean?"

"They're here because of my sister and I. As much as you feel emboldened and supported in creating this… institute. I'm partially at fault." He suggested, a smirk beginning to form.

"There's no need to-" He raised a hand to stop the man.

"We can hash out details later." Lelouch looked back to his screen unflinchingly as he continued.

"You're not suggesting…" the elder Ashford gawked.

"Yes, Ruben." Lelouch chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm going to play the game."

Ruben slumped in his seat, shaking his head in awe. "You're thinking so far ahead."

"I admit. I am merely twelve, joining a game which has been in the works for generations. I will not take this lightly." Lelouch paused to glance at his watch, then stood up to smooth out a wrinkle. "I must be off, I have classes to attend to. Good day Ruben."

* * *

Life after the invasion was notably repetitive, at least for someone like Lelouch. The days and nights went on with very little change into his schedule. Awake by seven, an hour later starting his tutorship ranging from History to Philosophy, break for a half hour for lunch, then onto Mathematics and Physics, and lastly to Economics and Politics. When classes ended at five, he would be sent for the occasional medical check-up, finally returning back to his home with multitudes of assignments at six.

At the fifth month of his classes, they were tutoring him at a level that no child (not to mention the routine's designated target, a university student), could handle. Yet despite the hefty workload, he actually found the classes to be enjoyable.

Ahh yes, tutoring, he thought wryly. It was an aspect he saw as useless but thus far it was proving far more invigorating than the kind he had experienced before; Britannian Royal teachers did little but teach him to follow and obey, while the Japanese told and expected him to memorize.

Former university professors at renowned institutes showed their worth within months, gaining both respect and attention quite easily. He was baffled at how a single group of scientists and the embellished value of Sakuradite became the downfall of so many academics, losing their tenures, their jobs, their research.

That was what lead to this moment.

"Britannia is a country that should have collapsed under its own weight. Any other would have already fallen!"

It was singularly amazing to see a man who had lived and taught in Britannia utter those words. Lelouch stared at a professor of his, one that by his knowledge had been thrown out of his institution not for speaking ill of his country, but by a lack of funding of all things. Dead-weight compared to other types of subjects in academia. In his hands were piles upon piles of history books, each a different variant, written and published by different organizations over a wide time-frame.

To the victor goes the spoils, he thought, knowing rewriting history was commonplace. History is judged by the survivors.

Nevertheless Lelouch raised a brow at the professor in front of him, clearly hoping the man would continue. It proved to be a factor in the evaluation as the man smiled approvingly. "Despite the name The Holy Britannian Empire, its current administrative outlook on her conquered states are similar to the enemy of Britannia during the age of the first Celtic king."

"You're saying Britannia is much more akin to Rome of the ancient era?" he asked, receiving a vigorous nod.

"Correct." the professor answered, turning to the onscreen window which opened into various historical pictures. "Commonly referred to as the Roman Method; It was the administrative doctrine of which the Romans obtained auxiliaries to do battle for the state. It's not unlike the Honorary Britannian system."

Lelouch stared closely at the images which depicted various soldiers painstakingly marching through different countries. Most were paintings of antiquity, but a handful were more modern photographs. His hackles rose upon recognizing a still with Tokyo's skyline in the background.

"The objective of the auxiliaries were in fact to persuade the soldiers into forgetting or lowering the importance of their own culture, thus adopting themselves into the culture of the State. The way to do that was to send the auxiliaries far outside of the influence of their homes. This is one of the many follies that still plague Britannia's methods as the honoraries rarely if ever leave their home area." he gestured to various pictures and maps as he spoke.

Quite a mistake in his opinion, but his professor wasn't done yet.

"This also includes the Romans' approach of which how they treated states under their thumb. Unlike the Romans; Upon each area under their rule, Britannia as a whole marginalizes the existing gentry in favor of other foreign or domestic groups. Rebellion is cut off before they could start, as those in power of the resources and the media were not of the conquered state."

Lelouch responded quickly, correlating with the repercussions. "This would in turn make the oppressed people stew in resentment, with only few ever taking up arms."

"Correct. Yet those that do are forever enacted into the hall of enemies of Britannia. Ironically a coveted role in the eyes of the people as enemies were honored and given posthumous rights compared to the sheep." His professor stated, happily to know his only student was attentive and more than willing to take heed. "Now. There a distinct voice in your head. I can tell, I had it as well. Japan's situation is different."

His brows sprung in understanding. "The NAC."

"Exactly, Julius. They were given rights." The older man scowled, "Completely opposite of the status of enemies. They are by the Britannian people, lower than dogs."

"They want Japan to rebel. To give them a chance that they backed out of when they surrendered." Lelouch said for the man, watching a smile gush forth.

"Absolutely. Even as we speak, small parties of dissenters and anarchists are roaming about. Some have gathered to form 'terrorists cells.' That's for the ignorant. Or the other powers." the professor waved off.

Lelouch couldn't help but feel the chill dawn on his skin, and his previous idea of absolute war to destroy Britannia when he declared his intentions to Suzaku. He would have lost before he even began. The Empire could have snuffed the resistance at any point in time…. They just want to see it. To see what their new conquest could do.

"To see if the dog actually bites."

The man nodded grimly. "And we'll praise _him_ for it. After **_it_ **dies."

* * *

Lelouch once again glued himself to his laptop screen at a table in a private room. He recently joined Nunnally for supper, and after learning about what she did for the day, he explained to her the changes they were about to undergo.

The talk went as he expected to go; Nunnally was reluctant about the change, and asked far too many questions than he was comfortable answering. In the end, she acquiesced for the sake of their survival. They had already lost everything else, what was one more thing? She did take a liking to calling him _Juli_ , while Milly referred to him as _Juju_ much to his aggravation. No amount of protesting would make either stop.

 _Eirene Kingsley_ , he played the new name of his sister on his tongue. A tough decision indeed.

"Julius. Finished with your assignments?" He turned to see Ruben Ashford walking into the room, holding a plate laden by a teapot which he placed beside him computer before taking a seat opposite him.

The boy nodded wordlessly.

"Whatever might you be doing behind that screen?" the man asked, taking a sip.

He quickly responded. "Investments, Ruben. I can't allow myself to piggyback on you for the rest of my life."

They both knew of the pressure facing the man, the issues of hiding away Britannian royalty was no minor problem. If they ignored third party factors, it was inherently tempting for someone, if not Ruben, then another Ashford's family member would use his status against him. A Royal child was a valuable pawn just by existing, a pair of supposedly dead ones even more so.

The man chuckled at what he implied, not offended. "Indeed not. I'm already struggling after a mere eight months into having dozens of professors that are, quite frankly, overqualified in academics."

"Then it was a correct choice then." he mused, eyeing the screen in front of him again. Numbers and statistics raced by thousands of times per second every day without rest. He clicked various buttons before continuing. "I've decided to support Ashford by way of funding."

The sound of a chair skidding against the wood floor told him Ruben stood up. "How would you get enough money? We're a public-"

"Make it private. Immediately." Lelouch interrupted, denying the man the chance to speak further. "I will secure funding. How much do you need now?"

He ignored whatever Ruben's reaction to his words were, but he let him think on the idea. A sudden thought occurred to him; for a school akin to his planning and the eventual capital he could gain if everything went according to his predictions? He would need more than just common rabble or even other Nobles to fund the place? Corrupt administrators that his brother permitted were out of the question, those fools were already bold enough as is.

Ruben audibly gulped. "Surely you can't suggest-"

"Is half a million enough?" again Lelouch interrupted, which lead for the older man to look at him mouth agape. "To start of course."

Any research institute worth their salt had benefactors. Most of the common ones were supported and protected by large corporations, or the military. If Ashford were to gain such a level of notoriety, the school would require adequate protection for the students and the future they would be creating. Without it, there was no way the academy could get off the ground.

He mused on his options, many courtesy of Jeremiah. The introduction of former lieutenant Crank Zent proved to be useful after all. He needed to contact him soon and set up a formal meeting, perhaps scout out some of his old comrades for help. That done, he turned to the still stunned headmaster. "It isn't solely because of you Ruben. I've had my eyes on a few things that I hope to support in the future."

Black Order? Black Knights? Invisible Knights? No, those names, regardless of his intention alluded to much more than what he wanted them to be known as. Of course he was Britannian, and he was taught all the classical and mythological knowledge of Britain's culture. Knight was just too forward, and he obviously didn't want to make a slight against the Knights of the Round if he wanted to stay alive for long. Using Paladins with the EU for a basis would make it seem mocking if the truth of his heritage came out.

He watched the man sigh. "Let's not talk about this now. I don't wish to assume but to have such money..."

"Ruben. Did you know the stock market is woefully predictable?" He smirked with a knuckle under his chin. Truly the game of Economics was a perfect starting point for capital. A lesson he had learned from another overly qualified tutor and supervisor. "If you can't make money in war, you just can't make money. Or like my professor stated before; Capitalism is the astounding belief that the most wickedest of men will do the most wickedest of things for the greatest good of everyone. How ironic."

He shook his head and closed the laptop keeping his most confidential information. A few hundred thousand Britannian Pounds Sterling wasn't as much as he hoped for the month. He really needed to cripple some questionable corporations, and earn another few million to even start anywhere. Lelouch smiled as he walked out of the door. "Then till next time, Ruben."

Thebes Labors he decided; A company he will have to start for the sake of his plan's protection. If modern interpretations were too much of a hotbed, the dead and forgotten will suffice. The start of his reach would begin once he meets Lieutenant Zent again.

 _E Umbra Praetorian Tutementium_ \- Lelouch nodded to himself. A good motto.

* * *

A boy sat on a simple chair with his arms crossed, behind a desk which looked too big for one of his stature. Julius Kingsley was still just twelve years old, yet acted like a seasoned lord interviewing a squire. The man across from him in another chair looked too big as he read the lines of the first set of papers handed to him. "…Julius, you do understand the work that Thebes will have to do once it starts."

"Yes, Mr. Zent. I do." he nodded in agreement. A Private Military Contractor; not the ideal starting point Lelouch wanted, but it would suffice, it had to. Timetable wise, Ashford would skyrocket in reputation after the first batch of alumni spread across the world in their pursuits, followed by the near impossible acceptance requirements the school wanted for their students. At the very least he would be looking at rival schools attempting to knock over these upstarts.

Lelouch wasn't to mention he was already starting to prod and poke at existing multi-generational corporations.

The world turned regardless of one's thoughts, he learned this long ago. Britannia still had shaky relationships with Europa United, the Middle Eastern Federation, and the Chinese Federation. Away from the public eye, ambitious companies, noble houses, and unknown militant groups vied for their interests, fighting each other just as much as with rival superpowers. Thebes Labors would have a lot of work.

"There are many, many restrictions that I'll be placing on these people under me. We'll do it clean." The older large man stated his stipulations. Something he agreed with when he first drafted the proposal.

He turned his chair to the side, gazing at a nondescript black box. Inside held a memento that he couldn't let go during the invasion, responding offhandedly. "Mr. Zent. I know how war is done on the ground. I had a personal audience."

"Yes, and this means everything we do-"

He raised his hands to silence him, which earned a frown. "The only ones who should kill, are those who are prepared to be killed, Mr Zent. I had an inking during the invasion, but not every child will. I've been informed of the Middle East Federation's Child Soldiers."

The both of them stayed silent after he dropped that tidbit. A move born of desperation to be sure, but in no way was it morally acceptable. Crank Zent took a long look at him in the eye, and something in the man's frame broke like a taut rope. Zent sighed, as if only people like him could understand.

"Then I agree to it. I'll head Thebes Labors." he nodded wearily.

"Thank you. You'll have the freedom to recruit whomever you see fit, based on your record I doubt I'd have any issue." Relief showered on him as he nodded in appreciation. The two shook hands to seal the deal officially as he continued. "Send me a list of what you need to get started. Land, money, equipment, et cetera. I'll handle the rest."

Zent smiled when he stood up, rolling his shoulders. "I'd had never thought I'd go back to my fighting days."

"Mr. Zent, run as we might, ideas are what shapes history. And for all of our world, history says a lot of things about us. We all die in the end." he smiled sadly. "As a man who's seen the worst, I doubt I need to explain this to you."

"No, no you don't." Crank chuckled, as if the two understood each other so much after such a brief meeting.

When the man left, Julius returned back to his seat and went on to acquire the funding necessary. A short time later a brief email from Crank informed him of more than a few… soldiers? Employees? No name suited them in Julius' opinion. Sadly, the operatives would need time to acclimate, and Julius only had a few ideas on where to set up a headquarters.

The door of his room sprang open with a loud thud, his head snapping up in surprise. At first he thought it was Milly again. "Julius! Julius!"

"Professor Eifman? What is it?" Lelouch demanded, bolting to his feet. The tutor he knew as a very calm and rational scientist, was breathing much heavier than he thought was healthy, and his eyes were wide.

The professor gestured with an arm, banging his cane on the ground quickly as if it was an emergency. "You haven't heard. Come boy, now."

Knowing none of his professors would demand his attention without reason (aside from the occasional prank or joke during apt moments), Lelouch quickly shut his computer down and followed.

The man and preteen walked side by side in the hallways, bending and twisting around corners to reach the theater hall, or rather, Public Discourse. A place where anyone who had a theory, or idea, or a subject…. He shook his head at the last time an argument happened. The debate ended in a fifty fifty split.

 _Magnetic Monopoles do exist! They still do!_ He shook his head at the memory and powered on. But the moment he entered the cavernous space, he was dumbstruck.

"This…" He uttered at the unusual silence of the hall, despite being filled with the countless professors who hadn't yet left for the day. Many of them huddled together into their usual groups (based on their field) before tentatively connecting to each other. They spoke in hushed whispers, followed by the occasional outburst.

His financial adviser and teacher aid a hand on his shoulder. "Remember Julius. It is ideas, not vested interests, which are dangerous for good or evil."

 _Of course,_ he thought. Ideas were what those with vested interests deemed profitable, regardless of what the repercussions were. Act, not think. The common disease which plagued humans.

He nodded but couldn't have hoped to steel himself for the upcoming announcement. The hall which installed a widescreen which encompassed an entire wall opened to reveal the image that froze his blood.

"It isn't the fault of science. Anything we do does not guarantee results which lead to benefits." He failed to register the voices around the hall, as if a siren rang behind his ear drums.

"To stop and make weapons of war, what is she thinking?" Another professor snapped.

 _Rakshata diverges from cybernetic biomechanical technology in favor of working with the Indian Research and Development Institute , more here_.

He tried, so very tried to remember if it was Eifman who responded to the other professor in the distance. He saw the man's lips move, but just couldn't accept it. "Moving towards Knightmares… I can see what she wants. India is having political troubles with the Chinese Federation."

"Secession ehh?" Another responded mockingly.

The gall of that women! He gripped his hands together in hopes of reducing the trembling, but to no avail. All that money he acquired was for naught! His blood boiled. Rakshata was short sighted!

"Julius, the second headline." he felt the nudge from his knee as Professor Fermi poked him with his cane.

 _Falling out between Rakshata Chawla and Earl Lloyd Asplund as a result of the change in scientific pursuits , more here._

Lelouch had enough. Without warning he stormed out of the hall, stomping on the floor back to his study. Disappointment and rage shrouded him like an aura of malevolence. Many men, older and more experienced than him by far, called out for him to return, but he couldn't find a reason to care anymore. Pathetic!

Nunnally's chance to walk again just went down the drain.

* * *

"Julius! It's two in the morning. Lady Eirene has been worried about your health for the past month now."

He ignored the calls from outside the study room he used for anything and everything besides sleep. With the windows locked and the doors barred from entry, it gave him a vast amount of time to figure out his next move. Something he sorely needed, certainly more than petty things like a shower.

If anyone could see the state of his office, they would back away from the utter devastation. Books flew and landed, half open with pages wrinkled to raggedness to show how much use they endured. Tables and chairs were overturned, while shelves collapsed to break away in pieces. It looked as if a storm had passed though.

Taking a quick sip of water, Julius inhaled a deep breath as he stared at the news articles again. before handing off an ugly scowl.

Whatever Rakshata and Asplund was thinking, whatever they thought was more important that they succumbed to their benefactors' wills. He wasn't interested in their games. Dark bags shadowed his eyes as his lips parted with a bit of a crack. His hands went to a cup of coffee to take another sip. He needed to balance the amount of caffeine and hydration for what he was doing.

"Even it has to fall on me. It's always fallen on me. No matter how long it takes, how much I'll endure. If no one will do it. I'll have to take care of it. Of her."

 _How motivated you are._

His shoulders stiffened; the caffeine wasn't helping anymore, but he needed to read. The voices from when he walked though Japan during the invasion came back, and he shook his head to dispel them. He need to get his studies together and move to the next level. There wasn't enough time in the day for the dozens of scientific fields he needed to be acquainted with.

"All by myself. I'll make sure Nunnally get a sense of normalcy." he whispered to the destroyed room.

His eyes drooped ever lower as he tried to resist the siren call of sleep. The papers which started to introduce him to Advanced Biology and Computer science was eluding him, his vision going too blurry to distinguish anything. All he could see clearly was the hands of a clock on his wall, miraculously untouched by the devastation.

The last thing he saw before he passed out was the time. "Ninty-Six hours... A new record."


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh hey guys! It's been a long time , and I'm sorry for that. Issues with time and schedules. This was done, a while ago, and honestly. I wasn't happy with it. I just wanted something to explain and give something more than a simple exposition codex or whatever about what happen in a span of time of about two years.**

 **My Beta had this for a time to read it over and edit it so it's not a jumbled mess of words. I have to thank how-not-to-do-something for the amount of time they used up since I know their work life is getting super hectic.**

 **B/N: "Oi lads! Drop erselves a reviewer thingy on dis story or Ill crack yer head wiff my rugby bat, swear on me mum!"**

 **They're lacking sleep... like a lot.**

 **B/N: "To anyone who's not liking the pacing? Fasten your seat belts, because the fun bus is revving up"**

 **True to some extent. In truth; The prologue and the timeskip chapters are just that. Setup for the series of events that will happen in the future. Domino effects, ripples in the water, stuff like that.**

 **Anywho. Please enjoy this as best as you can and if you have any issues or questions, some of them might be explained at the bottom.**

 **Code Geass is owned by JNN, Sunrise, and Namco Bandai respectively in it's original Content.**

 **Any and all Fictional Names added to this Fic are owned by their respective owners. Which is Sunrise and Namco Bandai. These will be referred to as Cameos, Appearances, and Additional Cast Members. All subjects that relate to other fictional sources of entertainment are owned by their respective owners.**

 **Any and All names of people that have, had, or will, relate to any reader; Know that these are inspired by historical events and characters. This is in no way shape or form a way to depict people that once were alive in the past of the Anno Domini Timeline.**

 **This is an Inspired work of fiction.**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 7?_**

* * *

 _ **How would you like to travel from Tokyo to Caracas in just over 7 hours?**_

This was the question posed by Julius Kingsley when he started a commercial Airliner, King's Air in a simple press release. The world outright laughed him out of the spotlight, media outlets and technology experts admonishing him for his unrealistic expectations.

In a few months later; Kingsley appeared on the Tokyo News Network, live at the international airport. Behind the boy was his first plane, a wild and innovative looking thing which he stated was the proof for his claim. He soon allowed the news crew a tour (of the cabins; the avionics and engines were blocked by his guards), and he answered as many questions as the crew were allowed. He even gave the viewers a look into what the accommodations would be, and to many reporters' surprise, there was no economy class seating at all.

That was when media outlets crawled out of the woodwork.

Experts spoke that the current fastest flight time was at best under a day, twenty three hours specifically. Fuel, range to cost performance ratio, flight charter, aerodynamic engineering in the public sector, safety concerns; It was impossible to get it any better than now. His pricing was even more surprising; He'd be operating at a net loss if he kept the cost as low as he promised. It could be done, but it wasn't worth the expenses.

A week later, Julius Kingsley was given the go ahead to fly to Caracas.

The only ones boarding were Julius, his small group of executives, engineers, flight crew, and a trio of news reporters. The preteen took the flight's highest level of class of comfort, to be sold as Royal Class at forty-two thousand a seat.(Something the reporters thought was pandering to the Holy Britannian Empire.)

The world held its breath when his plane launched. A low and dull roar engulfed the Tokyo Settlement airport, as the plane slowly took off the tarmac before accelerating at speeds no craft of its size could muster. News planes followed the craft as it left the safety net of Area Eleven's weather observatory, watching the departing flight for just a moment alongside the Britannian Royal Navy Defense Grid.

Observers captured the plane open sections on its tail wings as light poured out of thin and wide vents while a blossoming flower surrounded the nose until the plane itself sped like a race car. A thunderclap followed in its wake. It was the first time a commercial aircraft broke the sound barrier, clocking at Mach 1.6 for half the globe away.

The world started to look at the boy much, _**much** _more seriously.

Just as he promised, the aircraft reached Caracas Settlement in Area Eleven in _**seven hours and eleven minutes**_. Its appearance was as much as a spectacle as its launch; the plane appeared at the center of another flower, a sight so bizarre that the air control towers of Caracas Settlement kept the plane from landing for a total of two hours before finally clearing a runway. Julius Kingsley appeared on screen with a mug of coffee in his hands as they landed, grinning wildly. The maiden voyage ended without a single hitch.

If the company was public, the world had already clawed at each other for a piece of that pie.

* * *

 _Caracas, Area Six: 2014 A.T.B._

"Did I make it?" The doors swung open with a loud squeak as a little girl ran into the ruins of an orphanage located on the outskirts of the Caracas Settlement. She nearly tripped over a small pile of rocks before reaching the main table that held an old television, excitedly skidding to a halt.

Another girl nearly identical to her in appearance jumped happily. "Just in time, the show's about to start!"

"Big Brother!" that same girl turned yell for a fairly round preteen with green eyes as he was cooking a pot of stew to the side. He was about to holler for the other inhabitants of the orphanage, but was cut off.

"We got it, Biscuit!"

The room rapidly filled with gaggles of children, ranging from their early tens to the late preteens. All of them sported faces full of interest and curiosity, crowding a television much to small for their numbers. On the screen, a placeholder image flicked on to greet the viewers, showing the words **LIVE** and **WORLD BROADCAST** in large print, until it faded to an icon in a corner as the image switched to the one they were hoping to see.

"He's our age, Orga." a preteen called to the side for another boy.

With a long gaze that the children committed to memory; The apparent leader of the ragtag band of orphans nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah."

 _This is **Britannia United's Podcast** , and I'm your host, Bernadette Leroux. And with me here today in this fine studio located in the Caracas Settlement of Area Six, is none other then the famed Julius Kingsley, World's Youngest CEO at age fourteen! I'd like to say first and foremost, thank you for coming in._

 _No Ms. Leroux. The pleasure is mine._

 _My sound man and info library, Federico is with us on the computer._

Hi there!

 _So Mr Kingsley, is this your first trip abroad?  
_

 _Technically speaking, if you consider Area Six an experience abroad._

 _Point. That being said, I saw your flight! That, well... that was a surprise.  
_

"I knew what it could do, but this stunt still gave me quite the fright." Kewell exclaimed as he sat by his partner. The two of them decided to take a much needed lunch break at the center of Tokyo's Administration, hosted in the former's drab office.

Jeremiah chuckled as the rest of Area Eleven's military forces scrambled in a knee jerk reaction to yet another terrorist attack. This time, his mirth was a bit deadened compared to the other. "Our Lord is quite the showman."

 _Really? I sent the paperwork for the Britannian Commissions months in advance.  
_  
A young girl with pink hair turned to another clad in a Britannian dress uniform, her expression pensive. "Sister?"

"No Euphie. I don't think I ever got it." the woman responded, watching the various men and women under her command comb through papers they took from the Viceroy's Office. To the side held their older sister(Half, for the speaking woman), Cornelia, chaperoning them before she was to be sent to the western shores of Africa.

Cornelia muttered. "Another problem to pin on the Former Viceroy. Slimy and Corrupt from top to bottom. Area Six is a disaster."

"That's why Schneizel formed this task force, isn't it?" Euphemia asked carefully.

 _It's not everyday someone just pops in to say, 'Hey, I'm starting an Airlines!' You're even using a new design model. An untested one at that._

 _Its been tested on paper, but it's hard to find any good pictures of Mr. Kingsley's Wind Tunnel facility._

 _I had to be part of its Maiden voyage._

 _An inventor's pride I wager?  
_

A man in a black and grey officer's uniform nearly blew up. "This kid made a jet that practically blew away the competition! I bet the ticket sales will sell out in under an hour! I wouldn't mind staying in a plane, being waited on hand and foot while I travel twice as fast as everyone else. If only the waiting list wasn't so long…"

"Arthur! The company won't just use one, they'll have more soon enough." his superior rolled her eyes at him. The Eastern African Sea was visible through their viewports as the ship carrying them swayed in front of an armada of Britannian warships. Their destination: the Middle Eastern Federation. She chewed on her lip.

"But still…" The CO, a fellow called Captain Trine, did his best to ignore the fleet of enemy warships outside as he tried to continue on commentating. His fear was palpable as everyone else's. Schneizel was supposed to arrive in person a few days from now, and the peace talks better succeed.

 _You could say that. What do you think of it?_

 _It's radical!_

 _Forty plus years of experience in physics, aerodynamics, metallurgy and all they can come up with is whales? **Whales**._

 _And yours looks like… a boomerang?_

 _Looks like a the Britannian B-2 Spirit to me._

 _If you consider it that._

 _And you claim it uses **zero** fuel?_

 _My airliner runs entirely on electricity, with its surface installed with O-Carbonite Solar Cells that give it the highest efficiency rating, at eighty nine point five percent.  
_

 _And it holds eight hundred passengers? But the design looks like it could carry a lot more at a hundred meters._

 _It's a callback to the perceived culture of airships. The amenities, seating, and even service is standardized higher than the competitors. Food is cooked on the plane for instance._

 _Wait, the jet has a kitchen?!_

 _I saw the listings. Business, First, and Royal Class only?_

 _The price is not as exorbitant as you would expect. And thanks to its tailor made design, this plane flies at mach 1.6 and cruises as if you were in a luxury car._

 _That makes me want to book a flight immediately. When's the first ticket go on sale?_

 _I'm on queue for my fiance and I. Ten grand for a two seat lounge? Sign me up!_

 _When we finish taking care of the legal work for the rest of the world, then you may try your hand Mr. Federico._

 _That'll be tough. You're flying as fast as their fighter jets.  
_

 _Faster; The recent stuff aren't about speed anymore. They'd only lag a bit behind of Mr. Kingsley's plane._

 _I'm certainly not asking for a challenge._

Prince Schneizel swirled a glass of wine as he raised his brow. In front of him was the video streams of both the show and another program covering the news, with the jetliner still parked at the Caracas Airport. Dozens of maintenance crew, engineers, and other figures inspected the large craft for any issues.

He said to himself, "We might have to retrofit our old guard."

"I'll inform the Royal Air Force to bring the F-14, F-15, and F-16 platforms back into service immediately, your highness." Kanon acknowledged with an arm crossed over his chest.

Schneizel nodded. "The future years will prove to be quite interesting."

"Milord?"

 _If any of you are just tuning in, I'm Bernadette Leroux with Federico as my Sound man, and with me is CEO and founder of **King's Field** , Julius Kingsley. How goes your foray into Area Six?_

 _So far? It's a bit chaotic._

 _Does it make you want to dial down your plans of expansion?_

 _ **Heavens no**. The grand opening of the branch office will proceed as planned.  
_

A women with blonde hair grunted when the Britannian soldier shoved her towards her companions, men with blonde and red hair respectively. She laid eyes on the younger girl they only thought of as a friendly, fun loving sort before they were arrested in Area Six. Now, she looked much more reserved after a spell of solitary confinement. The child's brown hair was already slowly turning stark white, and her expression was uncomfortably blank.

They had been imprisoned in that rotting place for the better part of six months until the bracing sight of sunlight attacked her eyes. A brief respite, but she was certain they were finally going to be executed by that Viceroy of theirs. When her eyes adjusted to the light at last, she took in the sight of their demise.

"In the name of Her Highness, Marrybell Mel Britannia; Marlene Vlady, Ruido Resonance, Joyce Moreno, and Chall Acustica. You are now **pardoned**."

Instead of facing the raised weapons of of an execution squad, Marlene beheld a man with black hair and a pair of glasses standing in front of the soldiers. He was clad in a simple polo with a pair of slacks, examining them wearing a stern expression slowly turning into relief. She couldn't help but gape at the scene.

Her companion and cellmate, Joyce, called out just as his cuffs were summarily taken off. "Ian Vashti? You got us out?"

"Yeah, with a sponsor." The group switched to the oddly garbed soldiers in black, standing at attention. Unlike the usual greyish black BDUs of the Britannian army, their getup was subtly bulkier yet apparently no heavier, and their faces were completely obscured by a mask. On their shoulders was a lone patch, marking them by a sign which had all the prisoners take a breath.

Chall's knees gave out, and Joyce used what strength he had left to keep her steady as she gasped. "That's…."

At last the man gathered a smile. "Dr. Moreno, member of the formerly active **Médecins Sans Frontières**. As a physician and surgeon; Julius Kingsley wants to meet you."

 _You've got plenty of security if you need it. That leads to a bunch of questions._

 _I'm all ears, Ms. Leroux_

 _You said earlier that your… DARI-Simurgh? Did I get that right, Federico?_

 _It's Persian. Means Phoenix from what I'm looking at._

 _I wanted to call it the Tomcat, but sadly the Britannian Military still holds the trademark over the name.  
_

An older man in a battered officer's uniform grunted. "He's really flipping the bird."

"Chevalier, Sir?"

He waved off the younger boy's question. "Nothing Canard. Just trying to get a read on him."

The man pulled out a pipe and lit it in front of the unassuming Area Eleven Office of Thebes Labor. He smiled; they sacrificed a lot to get to Area Eleven after the skirmish against the Euro Britannians in a suicide mission. Only half of their original squad survived, but they made a decision to never to be another pawn against the forces two-faced politicians again.

At least not without being read in first.

 _The Simurgh is entirely your creation, and you have in your possession thirty eight other Holy Britannian Patents. That's besides all the work you must do. I'm just trying to wrap my head around it._

 _I can't either._

 _I'm here. Would you like some help then?_

 _When I was thirteen, I didn't do any of the things you're doing now. You're a scientist, that much is well known. You've already graduated with multiple degrees in Physics, Engineering, BioMedical sciences, Computer Science, and you're **still** being educated to get more._

 _That's_ _a record. World's Youngest to get a patent is a seven year old in Germany._

 _One's never too young to learn a new skill.  
_

 _Telling that to a girl fresh out of journalism school._

 _I didn't go at all._

 _Not everyone's talented._

 _You must be guessing, How does he have all the time right?_

 _That's it! Besides from being a scientist and an inventor, you're a CEO. The man that's actually holding the wheel of not just your parent company, but your subsidiaries as well. **Thebes Labor** , a Private Security Firm, **Elysium** , the Australian focused commercial farming and trade powerhouse, the innovative and radically employed **Oda Heavy Industries** construction firm; all these companies use ideas created from **D.A.R.I.** , the wide ranged think tank for consumer goods, which made that plane you were flying in!_

 _D.A.R.I. means_ _Development and Advanced Research Institute right?_

 _All correct, bonus points for Mr. Federico!_

 _What I'm trying to say is: Science, Technology, Medical Research, Architecture, Agriculture, Private Security, Consumer goods, Education, you're plying in all these fields. Now you're moving into the Air Transport industry! How do you do it and not die from over work?_

"Very Carefully." chuckled a Chinese man with swept back brown hair, leaning further into his seat. The man looked around the room to get a read on the various people waiting, each more different then the last. His eyes suddenly greeted the face of an office worker.

"Did you finish your application, Mr. Zhejiang?"

He nodded simply, handing a stack of papers to the female secretary. "Yes, thank you."

But just as he got up, he saw a young man, a Russian that he recognized as having the same face as a _**very** _well known officer. He walked forward to greet the teen. "So the rumors in Mongolia were true. Andrei Smirnov had a falling out with The Wild Bear of Russia."

The young man narrowed his gaze dangerously. "That's a story only I get to tell."

 _That reminds me. I just got the AC-Veda._

 _How is it, Mr._ _Federico?_

 _It's incredible! I use the laptop for everything now! I was curious about the OS choice though. Not a lot of companies make their own system instead of using commercially available software._

 _Many of my staff had a design jam when the product was first conceptualized. And that ended up with GUNM. It's opt-in, but many third party users prefer our Operating System over ENIX and DRONE._

 _That's pretty interesting. So sorry for getting off topic Ms Leroux._

 _Not a problem Ed. So, What do you want to do in Area Six?_

 _Well I have a lot of **plans**. For one, open many new branch offices of the companies I head. Another is to start an employment program, especially in the larger cities._

 _I'm glad you mentioned that. How do you feel about the state of the Area? Do you think you'll get a bite?_

 _That's the thing with humans and society as a whole. One can hope. But I hope my incentives will speak for themselves._

The inner rooms of the Narita Base were silent. The glow of candle flames burned slowly as the Japanese soldier called for a man kneeling with his arms crossed together. "Colonel!"

The man was Colonel Todoh of the Japanese Liberation Front, and those surrounding him were his elite four. Four Holy Swords, the best of the best. Right now they sat silently, even as more and more troops tried in vain to grab his attention. The radio in front of him was more important.

 ** _Is it really you?_** Todoh narrowed his eyes.

 _You've done a lot already for Area Eleven. The Numbers to Honoraries ratio rapidly decreased since you've employed them with sponsorship. Do you plan to do the same here?_

 _I think so, that is if the Glinda Knights can do their job and a competent Viceroy obtains the helm.  
_

Euphemia laughed, letting a trusted servant refill her cup of tea for the women in the room. "He's talking smack about you sis!"

"Too bad we don't have censorship laws." the woman in question pouted, her hand rubbing the front of her brow. The work was getting to her as she tried to clean up the mess that Area Six had become. Regardless, Cornelia smiled at the girls' antics. "Schneizel would never allow it. The commoners, **even** the nobles would riot."

"Says the sister who makes her troops freeze whenever she walks by." Euphemia said with a hand over her mouth. Her smile turned sour as the podcast played in the background, thinking her mind was playing tricks on her. She stared hard at the image of the boy being interviewed, wondering.

Did she recognize him? Euphemia ignored the other group members messing around and missed Cornelia being smacked in the face by a pillow, engrossed in her thoughts. **_You look just like him… Is that really you, Lelouch?_**

 _You think the amount of mobility you'll have will be less or more than Area Eleven? I'm referring to Kanegawa specifically.  
_

 _Ahh, the Kanegawa District. It must have been a surprise for a lot of your viewers that a non-noble was able to purchase so much land.  
_  
"This fool is an affront to our struggle to face against the Britannian tyranny!" A man's voice hollered behind his bamboo curtains, the shadow of arms flailing up and down easy to see.

A second voice called out, warning them all, "Whoever he is, whatever his goal. Keep your eyes peeled. He came in like a storm, a hurricane that might never leave."

"He's pacifying our countrymen left and right!"

"Kanagawa's lost our resistance groups to those H ** _onoraries_**!"

The eldest man sighed. Taizo Kirihara warned them of the boy's appearance years earlier, and now was the time for them to listen. He scoffed at the petty squabbling that had taken place. "Whoever you are Kingsley, you're a typhoon. You look as if you desire to destroy and usurp Japan, Britannia, no… the world from **its very roots**. What are you really planning, or are you just a puppet like the tabloids say you are?"

 _We had a discussion about that._

 _Private ownership of land isn't a noble specific right. Contrary to what the EU repeatedly claims, there is social mobility. Granted it's certainly not easy to accomplish._

 _I'll say. The last to earn a Knighthood was what? Half a decade ago, Ed?_

 _Peerage, Three decades. Ceremonial Knighthood, not the military rank is a leap year. Awards? Those go out every other year I think. Quiet affairs though._

 _The issue with land ownership is the requirement to consistently fulfill an established promise. Under the Law of Queen Victoria Victory of 1893, so long as you pay the taxes, whatever you do in your land is yours, excluding imperial laws of course._

 _And if a city ends up erected under your land?  
_

 _My land. My choice. I'd be de facto non-noble lord of the city._

 _That's a grey area under the House of Commons and Lords.  
_

"A bunch of figureheads and puppets. They're are a copy to the EU." In the office of General Smilas had him two children, a little girl and boy the same age, listening in as well. The girl spoke out in derision. "General. What does he know that no one else does?"

The man leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Their houses are titles, nothing more. But why does Britannia succeed while the Council does not?"

His door crash open to reveal a lowly soldier. "General!"

Smilas stood up quickly, demanding for him to answer. "Speak soldier!"

"General! Councilman Von Abernaught's been arrested!"

He closed his eyes. "Let me guess, the French representative is heading the hunt?"

"Yes Sir! There's reports of mercenaries securing his protection."

He turned to gaze upon an image of the boy laughing, as if everything was right in the world. Smilas frowned "Leila, It seems that while Britannia searched for their mythical Avalon during their conquests, they gave birth to a monster."

 _That's why not a lot of people try it. Take Bowie in the Maryland province for example. Holder of maybe forty five percent of the military and civilian aircraft manufacturers in North America, located in a small city of some two million people. Who do you think is the 'Lord' of that city?_

 _When you put like that, my hometown wasn't run by a viceroy._

 _Viceroys are a specific title that runs an Area in place for the Emperor. You commonly see your homes are lead by a noble, but let me ask you in return. How many Nobles in Britannia are there?_

 _Not as much as there are cities, districts, and villages on the mainland that's for sure._

 _Exactly! Delegation of Authority is an EU term that exemplifies a clear cut pecking order. For example, His imperial Highness Clovis La Britannia is the Viceroy of Area Eleven. He is also my Viceroy._

 _So you are what?_

 _I'm considered a member of the cabinet of Area Eleven's Viceroyship. Officially, I'm called the Vicegerent of Kanagawa. It would go officially and loosely, the Emperor, Prime Minister, Viceroys, Vicegerent._

 _So you're a noble._

 _No._

 _That's gotten me confused!_

 _Hahahaha, You slept through 8th Grade History and Britannian Administration Class then?_

 _I did get a D, Ed. So, If you **aren't** a noble, are you a commoner?_

 _Yes. Well, It's a grey area. My status as a Vicegerent makes it so my powers supersede the nobility in aspects pertaining to the 'well being and administration' of my jurisdiction. Anything else? I'm part of the House of Commons, but not a member of course._

 _Sounds like a headache. Can't you just buy a title and be done with that?_

 _Buying Noble titles was outlawed since the reign of Elizabeth III, just before Ricardo Von Britannia had been nominated to become the new line of Britannian royalty. As of this moment, only the Emperor himself may hand me peerage._

 _Think you have a chance?_

 _I doubt it! I haven't done anything absurd._

The second auditorium filled itself with laughter and hollering, as students from various different backgrounds watched the interview with smug grins. The past year for the entire school went all in a blur, owing to their professor of aerospace engineering handing his pupils a challenge.

"He flies from one end of the world to the other side in a school day and he says that's not absurd!?" a boy in glasses called out before he was hit with a notepad, his attacker being another boy with brown hair and an angular face. Many scenes like this played out throughout the building, the rowdy students of various ages alone without any supervision. One glance was enough to discover that was a mistake on the faculty's part.

From behind a boy in the student council seat, an auburn haired girl sighed dramatically. "Laying it on thick isn't he, Rivalz?"

Arnold Weinessig from Drama chuckled next to his director, a Latin-Britannian. "It's all a show to him isn't it?"

" _This is your friendly neighborhood Student Council President, Milly!_ " The speakers roared with the exuberance of their nominal head. The students roared back in equal passion as she continued, " _I'm here to say job well done! Just got word from the professors; Kudos and full points to the classes of Aerospace, Mechanical, Electrical, and Solar Engineering!_ "

" _Woooo!_ "

" _Yeah!_ "

The girl on stage chuckled, sly. "Professor Thomson is _**very** _happy with team four in Physics, while Professor Schrödinger thinks they should hand out surprise exams. But you didn't hear it from me!"

The crowd immediately jumped in surprise. " _ **What!?**_ "

"No way!" the girl beside Rivalz stood up to cover her head, most likely from an upcoming migraine.

An Afro-Britannian stood up to shout back, "Can I be exempt?! I'm a League Two Football player!"

"Michael is in Biology, and Edward is part of Biochemistry." Sofie Wood from Horticulture shouted back.

 _Oh boy, looks like another battlefield was going to happen_ , Rivalz thought.

"But they aren't part of the affected classes!"

"You forgot Eric. He's part of Aerospace!" The librarian was quick to help out his friend.

"Still can't believe we made that. Not some big shots. Students of Ashford did it."

"Helped. Not made, Helped."

"You pedantic little..."

A boy in journalism class asked to his neighbor, "Think we can get free rides?"

"Why don't you ask? Hey President!"

"I got some extra special news for you guys! But I guess I can wait. After all… You're pretty occupied~" The girl in question hummed, a finger played on lips as Rivalz nervously rubbed his neck.

The crowd fell quiet until they all roared once more. _"Milly!"_

"Shouting out for your beautiful president on demand is bad for Juju!" countless students of Ashford laughed; only Milly and his sister could call their half-alumni half-student that. "I got news. The Simurgh Model Three that's rolling out during spring vacation is taking us to Hawaii! _**The whole school is going!**_ "

What started as a small party inevitably turned into a concert hall. Rivalz chuckled, remembering the first time he came to Ashford Institute after finding a friend, back when he had no idea who Julius Kingsley was. He only helped the other kid with working on a pretty old 150cc dirt bike.

" _YEAH!"_

 _There was a saying in Ashford once you survived the first week._

" _Alright!"_

 _If you made it in Ashford. You could make it anywhere.  
_

Rivalz sighed a happily, "Another day in Ashford."

 _Says the boy that's going to CES in Nevada this year._

 _Who wouldn't?_

 _I honestly expected you to be the one hosting. Silicon Valley's got nothing on you._

 _Please, you flatter too much, the people there do good work. They're just experiencing tunnel vision._

 _You mean Sakuradite? It's a controversial topic when the subject is ever in your eyes. You hate it?_

 _The better things left unsaid, the better._

 _I understand._

 _Bad move Bernadette. We all know Julius over here doesn't trade any Sakuradite at all!_

 _I was just curious that's all!_

 _Since you're going to staying here for a few days. What's your opinion of Area Six?_

 _Honestly? Unimpressed._

 _You're referring to the new waves of criminal activity.  
_

"Look girl." he commanded to the small child in front of him to watch. To watch the man who ruined all their lives. Ruined the future of his family's life, lead him to adopt her from a fate worse than death. He grit his teeth as the Britannian officers were stripped of their insignias and were summarily tied to a wooden pole.

A man he knew from a long time ago spoke out his concerns. "Suberoa."

"She needs it, Crank." he glanced to the old soldier in a black and purple officer's uniform. The man frowned with his eyes glossy.

In a moment, a squad of Britannian soldiers marched in a neat line to the other side of the fenced off field. The lead in the back called out, "All hands, raise weapons! Aim!"

"Let the boss do it, Mr. Zent" his old second in command, Flast, put a hand on Crank's shoulder, nodding as the group looked on.

The sight of the Glinda Knights headed by Marrybell Mel Britannia spoke louder than anything else. The Viceroy's investigation was being undertaken with the upmost severity.

"By the word of Marrybell Mel Britannia, under the authority of his Imperial Prime Minister as temporary Viceroy of Area Six. You are to be executed by gunshot!"

Her voice was strict yet lacking inflection; her task force had a mission to clean house in the Area, and she performed her duties with gusto. Already hundreds had been sent to the gallows, many executed in public as a warning to any strays she had not yet caught.

"Former Viceroy, Yuna Roma Seiran! Under the Authority of Prime Minister, Prince Schneizel and His imperial Majesty, Charles Zi Britannia. For the crimes of Incompetence, Conspiracy, Tax Evasion, Trafficking, Corruption, Solicitation and Statutory Rape. You are to be hung by the neck until dead!"

The man in question cowered, words spouting from his mouth like flies to a corpse as the soldiers ignored his pleas. A swift pull of a lever, and the Viceroy of Area Six dropped. He flailed his body to and fro against the wind, using every scrap of movement he had left to try and escape. Even as his face grew blue, he tried.

* * *

.

.

"Can you trust him?" He said as the man in front of them held his last breaths.

Crank murmured softly, "Suberoa…"

"Crank. I'm asking: Can you believe in him?" he patted the girl's head as he turned to the other man, his crew waiting for the response.

"...He's the best one so far."

He laughed. "You aren't lying at least!"

* * *

 **Ok! Heres some basic stuff.**

 **The Youngest to have a Patent in the United States is a Six Year old from the Maryland.**

 **The Youngest in the United Kingdom to have a patent is Five Years old.**

 **Philo Farnsworth was Fourteen when he designed the Television Set.**

 **Pascal made the first mechanical Calculator when he was Eighteen.**

 **I could go on but, what I'm trying to say is... It's not far-fetched. Fictionally, Our dear Lulu could have gotten help. And certain names in the past few chapters would have proven possibility to have given said help. Julius Kingsley, or rather this mentally focused Mask of Lelouch was inspired by Tony Stark. But, his personality is a combination of his Teen self and Zero. Control Freak, Bombastic, Dramatic, Hammy, Meticulous, Perfectionist. I could go on.**

 **There's a bunch of references to the Gundam franchise here. And some of them will be staying. One more chapter until I get to the meat.**

 **I hope to see you guys soon.**


	8. Chapter 8

**This is the end to the time skips and prologue. The real meat of the story will begin next chapter. Thanks for sticking through the setup. It's a thing I've had to work on for awhile.**

 **Code Geass is owned by JNN, Sunrise, and Namco Bandai respectively in it's original Content.**

 **Any and all Fictional Names added to this Fic are owned by their respective owners. Which is Sunrise and Namco Bandai. These will be referred to as Cameos, Appearances, and Additional Cast Members. All subjects that relate to other fictional sources of entertainment are owned by their respective owners.**

 **Any and All names of people that have, had, or will, relate to any reader; Know that these are inspired by historical events and characters. This is in no way shape or form a way to depict people that once were alive in the past of the Anno Domini Timeline.**

 **This is an Inspired work of fiction.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

* * *

 _"What do you think Richard?"_

 _"It's a beautiful country."_

Indeed, thought Lelou-Julius. Even after this much time, he was still getting used to the name. Shaking his head, he returned his gaze outside his limo's window.

 **Spain** , especially its capital of **Madrid** , was a sight to behold for the fifteen year old. An all enveloping metropolis built itself on modern French and German architecture mixed in with older buildings dating back to the era of the Moorish conquest. In a way the architecture reminded him of Britannia, but it didn't carry the intimidating designs the Empire was so fond of. It seemed warm and inviting, as if the structures were coaxing the pedestrian along rather than forcing them to quake.

 _"What? Cold feet?"_ teased his uncouth assistant in the backseat beside him.

But this wasn't the moment for sightseeing. Julius didn't have much time as the start of the **EUDX** , the **Europa United Defense Exhibition** was about to showcase its many _(too few in his opinion)_ exhibitors on the field of Knightmares.

 _"I'd just prefer we not use Japanese so publicly."_ The redhead replied without a glance.

Since the first major outing of the Glasgow, the rest of the world's nations scrambled to catch up in the newest arms race to hit the scene. Billions of pounds were spent, tons of materials were traded, and Sakuradite was desperately needed.

Laughable!

Britannia became the de facto controller of the pink little rock which sparkled prettily, and made countries sell their souls for the scraps. Of course that wasn't counting whatever stashes and mines the rest of the world held, but the facts stood without objection. Seventy five percent of the world's Sakuradite belonged to Britannia.

 _Tunnel vision,_ went one remembered professor.

 _The amount of idiocy, ignorance, and lack of forward thought is like a plague_ , went another.

With ease, his limo came to a stop near a well guarded VIP entrance, secluded from the public and watched by a veritable army of black suited guards. A concierge opened the back door, and Julius exited with a grace benefiting someone of his upbringing. Despite the uncomfortable heat, the boy was clad in a simple woolen suit, an eyepatch covered his left eye. Twirling in his right hand was a cane with an lump of sculpted onyx as its center piece on the ends of the T-handle. If anyone would ask about the eye, they'd need look no further than the scars peeking at the patch's edges. It shut them up quickly enough. The experience with breaking down the prototype gunship during the invasion under his personal lab was memorable to say the least.

Exiting next was an older man quite unlike Julius, who immediately glanced at the procession in front of his limo. "Look at that. The first to reveal themselves are the Chinese."

 **Diethard Ried**. Yes, the man was an unusual addition to his 'employment.' His introduction a few years ago was just as unconventional as the man himself; Jeremiah and Kewell had been lax in their security, and so had he. The journalist found various revealing subjects pertaining to him and surprisingly Clovis' administration as well, covering his tracks until he tried sneaking a couple photos of Ashford's interior. After a polite interrogation he and the man made a deal that benefited both of them. Diethard would have unfettered access to the public sectors of his companies, open dialogue and video conferences with various employees at their discretion, and the rights to publish works relating to everything before the man's competitors, as long as he kept to his bargain. Essentially, he had exclusive rights to Julius Kingsley, King's Field, and its subsidiaries as a journalist.

His knights, Crank, and Ruben each asked him if he trusted Diethard Reid. His reply to all of them was the same: there was little of him to trust.

The man had quite a rocky reputation, with a penchant to aggressively hound for information regardless of the risks. Yet at the same time he was daring; A war reporter during the conflicts of Area Eight, Nine, and the foreign skirmishes between the Chinese Federation and Europa United over the Central Asian regions. He covered the disastrous and controversial events during the Area Six revolts, the Tibetan massacre, and the United Kingdom _(In name only, as Britannia's claim stood to this day)_ territorial protests, which resulted in scandals of public brutality, biological crowd control, and the many illegal prison camps in Russia. Diethard was a man who would go through thick and thin to get his story, no matter the cost.

A man who searched for the truth, his truth.

Diethard Ried was a nut, one who didn't care a bit about what the average man or women did. Nationality, Ethnicity, Religion, none of it mattered to him. His disregard was demonstrated the first time he met the man; at his back was an Honorary Britannian assistant, a Japanese not so long ago. To him Julius Kingsley's age was a non factor, and he proceeded to make a story to heighten his popularity.

No. Julius did not trust Diethard. At least not yet.

"It's underwhelming." went his last aide, sweeping his sunglasses covered gaze around while his hands were shoved into his expensive suit's pockets.

Ahh, Richard. Or rather **Richard Statfeld, Naoto Statfeld, Naoto Kozuki**. A man of many names, in a way Julius found all too familiar. When the teenager appeared before him years ago at the nobleman's request, he knew instantly of his background; not just because the information was sent by his knights, but he saw the teen had Japanese defining features on his face. The habits he showed when he tried to shake hands, sit, and drink were all the more damning. He thought the teen had a growing sour relationship with Britannia since the war, and it proved to be true after some investigating: Naoto was affiliated with a resistance group.

He chuckled. It didn't take long to persuade the teen to at least give Britannia a chance, although an unsubtle threat to sic the military on his group certainly persuaded him.

 _Your Britannia too_ he said back then, reminiscing when they entered the primary hall, the collective conversation around them buffeted the group for a moment.

With his knights nowhere near his sides, Julius acquired a small company of Thebes Labors Operatives to handle his security for his trip's duration. Mr. Zent did well to train them; the personnel he brought were professional, vigilant, and upstanding in their conduct. They were also formerly of many affiliations: Britannia, EU, China and her territories, and even the Middle East. The old soldier didn't discriminate.

Stationed at various points in the cavernous room shared with other security details, the operatives wore quite the interesting getups. Black and dark grey armor with a hint of purple, streamlined to curtail their frames, allowing full range of movement yet sacrificed little protection, the men and women were masked with a face obscuring visor helmet. Courtesy of the research he partook on his free time, the visors easily augmented their eyesight with a plethora of useful information.

His eye turned to gaze downwards through the glass, far into the open area where the Knightmares would make their debut. The sport stadium, or whatever it used to be, was extensively renovated for the exhibition; boasting a size of half a square kilometer in area with the capacity of one hundred and fifty thousand viewers, the arena was an interesting place. Pathways of carpet demarcated the exhibitions from the guest area, the latter of which was lined by numerous circular tables laden with refreshments, though he doubted there was anything more potent than wine. A large stage was placed on the far side of the room which faced a large number of chairs blocked off by rope dividers. While the Expo mainly served as a staging ground for many of the business, military, and technologically savvy groups to mingle and increase their publicity; its true clientele were the political groups attending.

Which was why he took his place at a corner of the ballroom, eyeing the center warily; Britannia brought some of their most important VIPs. Cornelia, Euphemia, Merrybelle, even Schneizel himself came along. Those four alone drew more attention than any other guest.

He tsk'ed. "Diplomatic relations must be turning sour."

Why else did Cornelia come to his exhibition? She neither cared for the brown nosing, nor the thought of Schneizel using her as a political threat.

His own reserved seats were shared with many of the rest of the inhabitants. High class would be an insult to the amount of care and amenities given to the guests, so each chair was made of the highest quality leather, with hand picked drink and food could be served at a moment's notice as a small bar was nestled at the back.

Julius didn't care much for all of this opulence, but what he did care about was the fact that many engineers and Knightmare researchers were attending as well. Julius gazed over the room in hopes finding the person he was looking for: **Rakshata Chawla.**

"Mr. Kingsley?"

He stiffened when the voice of a young girl reached his ears. A voice he could easily identify no matter how long it'd been since they last spoke.

Euphemia il Britannia, his half-sister, stood a few footsteps away from his entourage staring at him, while unknown guards stood at her sides, ready for any movement. Cornelia was truly paranoid.

 _You're quite the same with Nunnally,_ a voice in his head muttered before he quashed it.

Julius plastered on a smile, tilting his cane back and bowed with a hand over his heart. "Princess Euphemia, a pleasure to meet you for the first time. May I inquire why you wish to speak to me of all people?"

"I just wanted to meet the man who by all rights, from your interviews… You're helping the many of the Numbers." the girl shook her head, clearly trying to steel herself.

"Ah." Julius nodded, burying a flash of suspicion. "I know it might be a conundrum for those of similar mindsets in the homeland, but I lived in Area Eleven before the invasion. It was a lovely place, just ask my companion."

At his flank Richard clenched his fists, something to control himself. Julius nodded for the teenager to take over in his stead, and while flustered at the blatant move, the teen did so. "During spring and fall, the people of Japan would celebrate various festivals not unlike the ones of Britannia. The sights of national parks and cultivated cherry trees held a piece of nature, becoming a relaxing spot for many, and the food… Well it's something that can't be replicated."

"So you miss it." Euphemia stated.

Julius hummed. "One could say that. I owe Area Eleven a debt, and while I have _no desire_ to fan any flames in the political world, I will obtain the best of what is left of Area Eleven in hopes for Britannia to adopt into itself. This includes the other Areas which I've been able to situate a safe and productive transition into the local economies, such as the southern and northern tips of Area Six and Area Twelve. Natural Selection given form, if you had to call it something."

"I think it's a wonderful idea, Mr. Julius. The amount of Numbers becoming honoraries have leaped since you began employing them. You've single handedly increased their quality of life" Euphemia smiled in that earnest way he was so fond of, so long ago.

He bowed. "Thank you, Princess. I'm flattered from the praise."

"You've already helped in forwarding the medical field with innovations in antibiotics and fused agriculture and architecture to almost an art form. Clovis loved that." she bounded up and down in her exuberance, upsetting her metaphorical cap which she hurriedly fixed.

It was an unintended consequence for him to have helped his wayward brother Clovis, but the side effect allowed him an easier time for meetings. His brother held a great talent in many subjects, but he was **horrible** at being a statesmen. Corruption ran rampart, Nobles snapped at the heels of others as businesses concealed their many vices. Clovis just wasn't suited to ruler-ship; the creation and subsequent continuation of King's Field was almost the Immunostimulant for Area Eleven.

"I… I only wish my siblings were able to benefit from your advances." Euphemia held a miserable expression as she spoke, something he hadn't thought any of his relatives ever considered.

His throat tightened. "Your sister, Nunnally Vi Britannia?"

After all this time? he thought in astonishment.

"Yes. Maybe if she were around, Nunnally could have learned you would be on the path to restore her. It's kind of the reason why I came. To meet you I mean." Her eyes narrowed to him, as sweat trickled down his back.

He sighed. "...I see."

"I'd like to support what your doing. In honor of my siblings." Euphemia's eyes trailed and as he followed them, her gaze landed on the other royals. She put on a smile, continuing unabated. "It's something many of my siblings and I thought about. The deaths of Lelouch and Nunnally hit us deeply, and some haven't fully made peace with it."

Her gaze lingered on Cornelia a bit longer than the rest, her tone hardening ever so slightly.

So that's why she's been such a warhawk in the media, he thought. The preteen closed his eyes for a few moments, pondering the results of this new information.

 _Why do people lie?_

If Eirene were here, she'd without a doubt try to reassure her family. To explain to them what happened, or give them a reason to not care or worry anymore. She would end up exposing them, but that would be his sister's actions.

 _It isn't only because they struggle against each other, it's also because there is something that they're seeking. There's nothing wrong with that. Right?_ he asked himself, unsure of the answer. He sighed, a bit forlorn.

"Well… Since this is true, I'd love if we could discuss this matter further, preferably not during an exhibition for objects of death and destruction. Quite ironic wouldn't you say?" Julius switched around, putting on a disarming smile.

Euphemia giggled in that innocent way only she could ever manage. "True. Until next time Mr. Kingsley. It was nice to speak with you."

"Of course Princess. The pleasure was mine." he bowed just as the other members of his group followed suit. But before he left, he turned back. "Say, I'd hate to ask of something from you, your highness."

"Not at all, give the word." she stopped immediately to turn back.

"Might you know where Rakshata Chawla is? I've had hopes in speaking to her about her previous work." he gently probed.

The girl's eyes widened, pointing at a seemingly arbitrary direction. "Ooh! The medical cybernetics! Well, I believe she's with the other scientists and engineers who worked on the knightmares being shown."

As if on cue, a large crash reached their ears. Demented laughter swiftly followed into into the room, as another voice made a joke about a martini glass being a wrench. The buzz of conversation immediately quieted in response.

"That's Earl Asplund right there." Euphemia supplied with a trace of exasperation.

"Thank you Princess." he curtsied, a wave of his hand making his entourage follow.

"My good wishes to you and your progress." The princess curtsied back, returning to her sister as he departed. Upon glancing their way Julius held his breath; Cornelia, Merrybelle, and their entourages were staring at him a little too intently. As if they were bloodhounds detecting something off.

He chuckled under his breath. "Ignore them, Richard."

"They can see fear." Diethard joked, breaking his silence. Julius sent the man a deserved glower. Aware of who the man was warning.

"And how do you know that?" he questioned sternly, unsmiling. The just journalist smirked.

"My boy, you need this kind of spine for these works."

"And the right eye." his assistant added with a grin.

"Everything is about politics." the redhead muttered, fixing his hair as he looked into the arena; another Knightmare, a blue and red Sutherland was doing tricks and simulating firing for an impressed crowd. The pilot must have been skilled, or the machine was preprogramed to show its engineering techniques.

Julius huffed. "Enjoying yourself, Diethard?"

The man gave him a bloodthirsty smile, his eyes glittering with an extra spring to his step. "Stupendously."

His destination was close, but thanks to the unsightly appearance of Schneizel, Julius was required to move around him, hiding behind other guests and the occasional waiter. Years ago, he recognized the man had the eye for political maneuvering far above his peers (including himself, as much as he loathed to admit it), and had a knack for sensing a person's thoughts. That was then and Julius didn't want to know how much his brother improved since.

As evidenced by Euphemia's suspicion, his ruse would have lasted as long as it took for Scheizel to give him a second glance.

Up ahead, the loudest member of the science and engineering group was Lloyd Asplund; the man enjoyed talking up a storm, laughing and joking with others of his clique. The usual pleasantries and teasing compliments oozed out of their mouths, making the boy reminisce the days of his tutorship. He frowned in concern should the man recognize him as well, but not before finally landing eyes on his prize.

Rakshata leaned back to the railings of the open air balcony with several members of her own team in the vicinity for simple conversation. He noticed the woman glance at him with a raised brow, but said nothing.

Julius strode in front of her and did a simple bow. "Ms. Rakshata Chawla. Allow me to introduce myself first, Julius Kingsley."

"Yeah, what is it boy?" she said after a puff of her tobacco pipe. Her laid back demeanor and utterly bored tone was a far cry from virtually everyone else present in the expo.

He ignored the disinterest to smile friendlily. "Your work in the medical field, especially the research papers pertaining to medical cybernetics, was simply exemplary."

"Ah, you're too kind." the woman swiveled her head towards him, a clear sign she was taking him a bit more seriously. Sadly he wasn't here to make friends.

"Might I ask that we speak somewhere more privately?" he gestured away via his cane.

The woman laughed, pointing at an obvious spectacle of a DARI-Simurgh leave the city for parts unknown. "Hah, whatever it is, we do it here. You might not look it, but I can tell you didn't get here using someone else's money. So, what do you want to know about my work?"

 **"How much for it?"** his words shocked the vicinity into silence. The many other engineers laughing and joking with one another just a moment ago paused in contemplation.

Rakshata was also affected, the pipe's embers darkening, barely catching the object from falling as ash tumbled to the floor. "Come again?"

"Ahhhhh?~ What's this about money?" Lloyd Asplund jumped in with his hair flailing a bit, a wide eyed expression appeared followed by a childish smile.

He shared a pleased look with Diethard. _Perfect_.

"Your work on medical cybernetics was funded with the intention of bringing many wounded individuals the chance to, quite simply, live their lives again. It was by a combination of government grants and public funding that went through your institute." as he spoke, Rakshata widened her eyes in visible surprise.

The Earl hummed, putting a finger to the corner of his mouth. "So you were one of them? I smell bad blood~"

Julius nodded, narrowing his eyes at the woman and the rest of the learned minds. "I'll get to the point, Ms. Chawla. Your research has been effectively abandoned as you've moved on to the dismal affair of weapons of war."

A particular guest recoiled from offense. "Now see here boy. The usage of Knightmares-"

 **"Is twenty million enough?"** his voice rang out, so much so that to his surprise, passerby's were being drawn to their location. In the edges of his vision registered a small gathering, a development he ignored. "To clarify, Is twenty million enough for you to share all information that pertains to your research, and allow another to advance that particular field of study?"

Twenty million Britannian pounds was a large sum of money, much more than the usual for uncompleted intellectual property. All around him scientists were mulling, digesting his words.

Julius planned this out with Diethard as his coach; they all knew scientific funding varied from one political faction to other, and many of them had stipulations that had to be met. Britannia as a whole focused primarily on the military and industrial wing. The EU concerned itself entirely on the desires of the market, or specifically, the conglomerate moguls which had enough power to rival a medium sized country. China… the less could be said about them, the better.

Rakshata clear cut answer struck the air like a bell. "Not for sale."

The initial shock was quick; he grit his teeth, restraining himself from clenching his fists. With a deep breath, he stayed silent as before, eyes flicking to the nearest faces to discover signs of bemusement. He knew this would happen. But that was why Earl Asplund was here.

"Boy, you think you're the only one that's asked?" A businessman from the EU voiced his mocking statement under the guise of sympathy. Most likely a man who did exactly what he just did.

A Britannian scientist, a man he recognized from being the lead designer of the Sutherland, shouted disdainfully, "If you want to progress in the field, any field, do it yourself."

How typical, he thought scathingly. Such arrogance for something so minor. His work would be replaced in less than a decade.

"Whatever it is you think I might be planning with your research, understand it has nothing to do with the intention of profit." ignoring the barbs, he proceeded with his pitch like a spoiled boy as expected of one with 'new money.' He closed his uncovered eye, Julius smiled without a care. "Persistence is very important. You should not give up unless you are forced to give up, Ms. Chawla. Your work could do better than sit under a pile of dust in a filing cabinet. Let it be part of formula that could fertilize the seeds of enlightenment."

"And you think Knightmares aren't."

Tch, that Britannian again. He sneered with the unfiltered disdain of a king looking at a bug. "Of course not! But this isn't about those two bit toys of chaos and destruction."

"Ahhhh~ A detractor I see." he faintly registered Lloyd's getting wider, as if a shell was being cracked.

It didn't matter. The endless media attention Knightmares gained irked him beyond belief, all this childish fawning over a new toy. Such tunnel vision needed to be rectified. He glared at the inhabitants of the room, this didn't concern them. He certainly wasn't making any friends this way, but his stance was clear. Unbeknownst to him Diethard aimed a camera to his face, as Richard backed out of view.

"They are useless. Pathetic objects which countries use to embolden their pride. They provide no incentive outside of times of war." he spat, features wrinkling into a scowl.

 **Such wasted potential.**

Many ambassadors snapped towards him with red faces. The anger of the room was palpable as engineers, mechanics, and various knights of Britannia looking as if they were directly insulted. But he allowed no room for interruption.

"No country has allowed Knightmares to be used as construction tools. They do not create innovations for prostheses, improve electrical or architectural designs, or even support modern electronics. The most compact a Knightmare's circuitry has gotten is the size of a hard-drive, the fastest their engines can go won't defeat a modern entry level sports car, the drive components do nothing to support the automotive industry, its ejection system does nothing to reduce flight emergencies. I could go on." he gazed on to the silenced audience, unwavering. _**"Knightmares are a closed loop."**_

"You can't blame it on the Knightmares." Lloyd defended, looking quite serious.

How uncharacteristic.

"I cannot, no. But I believe it should be worth more." he ended his speech with a flat statement. "Frankly, I'm disappointed."

"Then what do you think of the Knightmares here?" A new voice pierced through the tense atmosphere, like cold air to a soufflé.

Approaching to stop a body's length away was blank faced oriental man, clad in a blue officer's uniform of the Chinese Federation and sporting a long braid of hair. In the back of his mind Julius conjured a label upon recognizing him: **Li Xingke** , a bodyguard for one of the High Eunuchs. He noted interestingly the man didn't look upset, just intrigued. As if he saw an individual with not an open mind, but someone who looked further than the rest of the expo.

Julius was quite surprised by this chance meeting, and it showed by his smirk. For his part Xingke didn't looked like any average drone of the brainwashing powerhouse of the Chinese Federation; instead a form of analytical curiosity was shown in his gaze.

Nevertheless, he curtsied respectfully. "哦, 武術英雄與更遠的凝視. 我會啟發你的."

Immediately the Chinese man's posture straightened, blinking rapidly in his own amazement. "Your enunciation needs work, but nevertheless, that's quite impressive."

Multiple whispering translators doing what they were paid to do threatened the silence, Julius scanning the exhibits displaying each Knightmare for the world to see. They stood still at the moment, waiting for the applause of the masses.

Julius tapped his cane to follow the image of a pompous arse.

"The **Bamides** utilizes a large crew despite being nothing more than a weapons platform for long range targets. Its size heightens the chance to be targeted while lacking defenses against missile bombardment, while its slow moving reaction times make it a sitting duck in combat. The lack of appendages renders it easy picking at melee range." he sent a wry smirk to a team of Middle Eastern knightmare designers. "Size isn't everything." A smashed martini glass was their reply.

Julius held his cane to point at the EU's display, his tone keeping the mocking disdain.

"The **Panzer Hummel**. While I give credit for its mobility, the platform lacks proper limbs for melee or utility purposes. This is the age of Knightmares gentlemen, there's no end to what a Glasgow could do to smash it to pieces. Meanwhile the Panzer's options are running away to use its autocannons. Cannons that, I should remind you, replaced proper arms and hands." he chuckled with a deadpan grin. "A trend back to the era of arrow bombardment I take it?"

His grin turned into a full blown smirk; It was Britannia's turn.

"Britannia's oh so glorious fifth generation **Sutherland**. Improved materials in its construction, new armor plating with improved quality of life functions. A redesigned frame… at best. The Empire's new pride and joy is nothing more than a refined Glasgow. Don't even call it a fifth generation. I'd liken it to an inter-generational unit." He didn't spare a glance at the ever reddening face of the Britannian who shouted earlier. "Your thoughts were: it isn't broke, don't fix it."

Last he pointed to the smallest and least impressive machine on display, keeping Xingke in eyesight when he spoke.

"Ahh, the **Gun Ru** , or the 鋼髏 to use its proper name" he said finally. "What's here is exactly what it is. Inexpensive, mass producible, easy to use, easy to maintain. But above all, it's ineffective. The Gun-Ru is a stopgap for the Chinese Federation's needs, nothing more.

As sweat trickled down to his chin, He turned fully to meet everyone in the eye and smacked his cane down for emphasis.

"These Knightmares displayed today… They're _**pathetic**_."

What happened next was as he expected; most of the room roared their disagreements. How no one threw a drink at him before security muscled in astonished him; the way the guards efficiently handled the rowdier businessmen showed their experience, quickly subduing angry Knightmare developers and relieving them of any dangerous implements.

"The Panzer Hummel doesn't need proper arms! No enemy can get close to it!" A german rushed up to many of the EU generals to defend the creation of his firm. "Du totaler Hack!"

Meanwhile Indian engineers huffed, staying silent while both Rakshata and Lloyd looked at the Knightmares with stern expressions.

"A load of hot air from a boy that's punching above his weight. What are you? Fifteen?" snapped an Italian representative. Completely forgetting about what occurred last year.

"Barely any experience if I had to say anything." a Baron sniffed contemptuously.

A couple representatives from the Knightmare production companies scurried to the Britannian generals, specifically heading for the Prince and Princesses to aid their cause. "Princess Cornelia, ignore him. He has no idea what he's saying."

"Probably still in school. The magazines written of him are nothing but tabloids"

He heard banging of the railing off to his side, too close to be a stranger. Although the insult was aimed at him, Diethard's pride was just as ridiculed.

"Tabloid?! How dare-" Julius quickly raised his hand to halt his rang.

"Please. Weapons of war are simple, children could do it." he explained. Diethard didn't need to lose his credibility over something this petty.

 _Things that don't change, go extinct._ One of Milly's first punchlines. She used the line to defend Eirene, persuading him to let them explore and have fun in the Tokyo settlement. Such a simple line, and he fell for it.

"How about this then? Why don't you put your money and your brains where your mouth is." declared an approaching general by the name of Arthur Goodman, boisterous and proud as his posture suggested. His curly blonde hair bobbed when he proclaimed, "We have a new model being designed as we speak, designated the **Glouchester**. I suspect it will be the first sixth generation Knightmare frame. I propose a duel of wits."

"What? Create a Knightmare to rival Britannia's own?" Julius asked back, not expecting a response. Did he need to prove himself? "I refuse."

Many of the idiots laughed, even though it was a perfectly acceptable answer in his opinion. Their feeling were hurt, which didn't matter to him; his eyes never left the faces of the other scholars in his vicinity.

"So the coward retreats. As expected of a mere boy." General Goodman laughed uproariously.

Some joined the mockery, but others just waited. Evidently they wanted to see how this would unfold.

"He didn't say that, sir." Richard came to defend him oddly enough. He raised a brow, and it was returned with the silent gesture.

 _Let me handle this._

He sighed. "It's simply not of my concern as I have no stake in this arms race. What would be my incentive? To smash your pride to nothingness?"

"Julius!" he raised a hand for Richard to stay silent. The redheaded teen rubbed the bridge of his nose, growling under his breath.

Lloyd snickered. "Oooh~ quite a boast. This is pretty exciting. But without a reason greater than pride and reputation…"

Gazes flicked to the sour faced Indian woman, who had been silent for so long. "Fine. Let's make a bet."

His brow twitched.

"As much as I like the verbal beatdown on the Empire's innovations, I'm a bit insulted myself. So then, my research for a Gloucester buster. That'll motivate you right?"

Julius glanced to the side, where Diethard and his assistant held cameras and microphones in their hands. They looked quite happy at this turn of events.

"I waas~ going to just give my research away when Rakshata said no." Julius swiveled to the eccentric Earl, who hid his Cheshire grin behind a fist as he continued. "But I'll add mine too."

Damn. Julius was hoping for a different outcome(Betting on the Earl proved to be more dangerous than anticipated). He gulped, feeling a bit stuffy as a bead of sweat trailed down his eyepatch.

"How about it Julius Kingsley? It's quite a statement you've made, and I am curious by the prospect. How about you Cornelia?" His eyes widened when the Second Prince of Britannia asked for the opinion of the Third Princess, Cornelia.

 _Schneizel as well?!_

The entire Britannian entourage followed suit, and he had to grit his teeth when the oldest princess spoke. "Kingsley seems confident enough. If he succeeds, then good for him. If he doesn't, then that's that. The military wouldn't be producing his Knightmare so there's no money for him, and we've already put our funding into the Gloucester's development. Why should his boasts concern us?"

"Sister? Umm, this isn't what I meant by supporting him. Mr. Kingsley has a lot of work on his plate. His company owns a lot of subsidiaries, and much of it requires his own supervision." Poor Euphemia trailed behind the others, her words doing little to dissuade them, as the weight of public pressure grew heavier.

He bit his lip the moment the woman responded; the faint nostalgia in her voice lingered longer than he liked. "I heard what he wanted Euphie. I wish she was here for the future too. But a man is only as good as his word. If he says this is child's play, then let him prove it."

Neither one knew they were using their past as leverage. He stifled a curse.

Gritting his teeth, Julius breathed once through his nose. "Alright, I accept."

Fine. If they were so eager, he'd join this game. Maybe it would prove useful for the days to come.

The room was shocked further, having expected him to back out. A smirk grew on his face until it reached from ear to ear.

Why would he run when he knew just how capable he was?

"Then it's settled!" Lloyd clapped his hands in excitement.

Another of the Britannian Royal family, Merrybelle, swiftly interjected. "Do we have a timeframe for the Gloucester?"

Everyone laid eyes on Schneizel for confirmation; he took a few moments, but the man came to a conclusion. "A solid answer would be a confidentially breach. But to give Julius Kingsley a handicap and to make things fair, the match will be in two years. Now for the venue."

What was that man planning?

"India will do it." They switched to the Indian woman again, leaning forward with her attention piqued. "I just agreed to spice things up, but now it's gotten serious. New Delhi will host the venue. Won't it?"

The Chinese and Indian representatives nodded affirmatively. No doubt they were going to do everything in their power to study the Gloucester. Julius knew they would; China held a lot of paranoia towards Britannia, they wouldn't turn down a chance like this.

Too bad. He turned to walk off, signaling his group to follow. With his goal achieved despite the setbacks, there was no use in staying around for long.

"Wonderful then. I must take my leave early. There's much work to do after all." Julius replied without a backwards glance.

To make a Knightmare which rivaled what the greatest current superpowers could produce? He had his work cut out for him. If he were a lesser man, he just might've been in trouble.

Diethard grinned from ear to ear while he walked beside Julius, no doubt mentally drafting the story of a lifetime. His assistant Kinue kept writing on her notepad, recording everything for posterity's sake. The fact that what had just occurred was broadcasting on repeat the moment he left the venue made him chuckle. That was one way to become famous.

Richard looked older by five years under all that stress. The redhead's nose was quite red, looking as if he had a fever. Visible shudders wormed throughout his body while he walked.

The entourage was nearing the exit when an aide hurried to block him, expression flushed.

"Sir, a man from the Chinese Federation wishes to speak with you." he informed him as he walked, and with a nod Julius changed tracks to follow him towards the awaiting Chinese man from earlier. He noted interestingly this man was 'alone'; no Eunuch or officials were by his side, only small handful of what seemed to be his trusted aides.

"Julius Kingsley. May we speak in private?" greeted Li Xingke to the approaching boy. His expression remained as stone like as before, but he saw a gleam of curiosity in his eyes.

He smirked. Maybe this debacle proved to be worthwhile after all.

"良禽擇木而棲，賢臣擇主而事."

The other man shook his head with an impressed smile.

"Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Chapter three."

* * *

Nunnally wrinkled her nose at all the commotion and hollering down below her. The voices bounced off the casino walls to let her know he was on the second floor, just above the crowd. Picking out one voice in the sea of noise proved to be quite the challenge.

"Go! Go!"

Ruffling cloth and the clanging of leather soled boots told the girl her opponent had left in a huff, after a harsh yet fair loss against her in chess. An activity Milly and Rivalz suggested, something for her to connect more with her brother.

"I bet good money on you! Don't let up on that son of a bitch!"

It wasn't the soft echos of smacked padding which caused kept assaulted her ears, but the rattling symphony of abused flesh and shattered bones, intermixed with the repeated gasps of forcefully emptied lungs. The air already reeked of rusted iron and sweet perfume.

"Stop dodging! Go for the neck! The neck!"

Grunts and yells followed, her brow narrowed to figure out what exactly was happening.

"Lady Eirene?"

Nunnally turned her head to the new voice. It was gravely and rough, the radiating waves of tobacco smoke flowing from his location wrinkling her nose. His footsteps were like marching, pausing only a few moments before she heard ruffled clothing, her cue to know he took the seat across from her.

"I'm surprised to see you up here. Have the games from the lower floors bored you?"

"I wouldn't say bored." she responded, ears perking when she detected Sayoko's tightening her grips on the wheelchair's handles. A quick sniff registered a few pairs of new footsteps at the man's flanks, followed by the clack and jingle of plastic and metal touching leather. "I prefer my games clean."

Nunnally halted from covering her mouth with a handkerchief when he laughed. "Prince Clovis' administration has given us much to thank him for. One such thing is to allow us to create this casino that we all enjoy."

"Yes. Truly, it's a sight to behold." her voice came out level, roars filling the background. A thud from the pit below told her enough to know what happened.

 _I'm sorry Sayoko. Big brother was right. Babel Tower wasn't a good place for anything._

Death matches were illegal throughout the Empire, yet many were still allured to the forbidden sport. Gladiatorial events occurred all over Britannia, let alone the rest of the world. A disgusting practice that many decided to keep.

"Please, lady Eirene. Would you care for a game?" soft clicks of marble pieces hit a wooden board. The game was reset as the man continued. "I hear you're extremely skilled."

Did she really have to play with a man so slimy? The amount of extra people milling around them clued her in; he was important in some fashion. How much or in what regard didn't matter, all that did was she was stuck in his presence.

She sighed. "No one is willing to call for a rematch I'm afraid."

From there, the man moved a piece while calling it out for her sake, presumably out of some misguided sense of pity. Although her eyes weren't functional, but games like chess could be played blind. Sayoko moved the pieces in her stead, the soft clinks joining the sounds of fist fights in the background, creating a hollowing orchestra for ambiance.

"Do you enjoy it here?"

"It passes the time." Nunnally snorted.

That was true, at least in Milly's words. But then again, the older girl was the reason why she was doing this stuff in the first place. It'll be fun she said. Better than sitting around and do nothing she said. _Have some fun, I'll talk to Julius, she said._

Maybe she should have just asked to couch a football team or manage Rivalz's Moto-racing group.

He responded after a few long seconds to think of his next move. "Certainly."

The game came along normally. Her opponent was certainly good she admitted, but not amazing by any margin. Then again, from memory alone she only had her siblings for reference to play aside from the occasional practice with her brother. Large bells dinged again as roars of the audience below reveled in the controlled chaos.

The man pounced at a weak move she made. "Bishop to D6."

"Pawn to E5." she clicked her tongue.

He didn't let up his advance. "Queen to A1."

"King to E2."

"Running away girl?" he half jested, his smirk plain as day from his voice alone. A clink of a glass reached her, presumably filled with wine or some other kind of alcohol.

"Not at all. I'm just perturbed by the background noise." Nunnally answered with a straight face. The noise and commotion from below didn't affect as much as one would think, despite her apparent distaste. She just wanted to make her opponent cocky. Make them slip, her brother would say.

"Yes. A travesty. Edward's poor fighter's losing the will to fight back. Against a child of all things."

She froze. "I see. What would the winner of the fight gain?"

"For one, his life." Derision leaking in his tone, making her skin crawl. "You're giving away all your pieces."

"To lose a battle but win the war. Results are what matters." Nunnally smiled, copying what many socialites parroted word for word. "My brother used to say that."

"And you agree?" he asked bemusedly. "Knight to A6."

"Knight to G7." she continued without missing a beat. It wasn't quite what Lelouch uttered, but the illusion she had made it look better than it actually was. "Not at all."

"King to D8." The man retreated back, the sound of his voice hinting at where he was facing. "Have you tried partaking? As much of a liability you seem to be, you could make it worthwhile to bet in a match."

"I'm not interested in a death sport." Nunnally didn't bat an eye. In the past, the insults came and went by greater, more powerful people. Real nobles from before her time in Japan, and afterwards by commoners wherever she left her home. Her skin was far thicker than her appearance suggested. "Queen to F6."

His opinion was worthless, she decided.

"Knight to F6." he responded quickly to defend himself, probably looking for a way to win. Too bad he fell for her trap long ago.

She smiled demurely. "Bishop to E7. **Check and Mate**."

It was if the clock stopped. All around gasps sounded out, before whispers came from every direction. They hid behind their palms, fans, or just the rim of their glasses. She felt the gawking on her, followed by a tiny laugh.

"You…. You no. Damn… That's impossible!" his cry proved to be the straw which broke the camel's back; her opponent shot to his feet, slamming his hands on the board from his vast frustration. "You cheated. I know you did!"

What a poor loser! Nunnally thought, stifling a laugh. Aloud she said, "I certainly did not. How could a blind girl cheat in a game of chess? I had to voice out all my moves."

"Girl, that maid of yours hid pieces under her sleeve." he spluttered.

The idiocy, she thought contemptuously. This wasn't a card game. "She didn't, can't in fact. How would I know what she even put down?"

Really, the nerve of some people! Nunnally thought. She didn't understand the problem; it was just a game, there weren't any stakes involved. The man played in an illegal casino of all places, so he probably didn't have much of reputation, pride, or an ego in the first place. He was small fish imagining himself a shark.

Sadly, the man held a different view.

"We're going to have to detain her and consider this match invalid. You and the maid won't be leaving until we get word from Julius Kingsley." her opponent barked. Seconds later a half dozen men surrounded her, edging closer to detain them. Distinctive clicks told her these thugs drew pistols.

She merely clicked her tongue. "Such a poor loser. Is your ego so sensitive that a little blind girl can hurt you with just a game?"

The crowd around them gasped; evidently they thought she should've never agreed to the match.

"How about real bet then, dear girl?" a chestnut shell cracked on its lonesome, probably him showing off his grip strength.

The young girl was distinctly unimpressed. "What might that be?"

She could imagine a cruel smirk on his features all too easily. "Man versus Nature"

Nunnally tightened her fists.

 _"In this corner, a child with skills like no other of his breed. He was given to this fine arena of glory as formerly of the Kurdish Republic resistance. He was obtained by our longtime supporter Abdul Majirif, a wealthy oil merchant of the MEF, and sent here to prove his worth to be free!"_

The crowd below, ignorant of what was happening just a floor above them roared at the announcement. She knew about the news surrounding the MEF, her brother talked about the matter a lot with his associates when they thought she wasn't listening. Her stomach turned; a child? Were they her age? Or older? Younger?

 _"And in this corner. The raging champion of Babel Tower."_ the announcer paused for dramatic effect. _"The Mad Dogs!"_

Dogs, wolves, or something like them barked and snarled through the bars of a metal cage. Fangs and claws scrapped painfully against the steel, grating even at their vantage point.

Her blood froze. "I see…"

"If you win, I'll ignore what happened earlier, and you get to leave with your maid." he offered mockingly, no doubt sneering at her.

Of course this man would bet on the animals. She gritted her teeth and focused: based on the frequent clawing scratches on the cage, coupled with the the sheer amount of snarls, the boy was outnumbered by a wide margin. The man practically snickered at her hesitation. Sayoko tensed, rustling a hidden weapon under her clothes. Oh she knew. _She always knew._

Moments later, the cage opened. But before the fight truly began, an idea appeared in her mind. "Nobleman Arnold?"

The man she was referring to shuffled his feet. She swiveled to his general direction and nodded. "My game with you. You mentioned if I wanted something from you, I should 'go ahead.' Was this correct?"

"Yes?" he answered guardedly.

"Good. Sayoko."

"Of course Mistress." her maid replied, and quickly leaped at a fast speed; she only heard a whoosh from her passage until she returned with a solid tap. A metal clink by her ear told her what she needed to know.

Nunnally nodded.

The item was summarily thrown away, the crowd growing louder when it landed in a loud clang.

What happened afterwards, Nunnally could only tell by sound and smell(like always). High pitched grunts reached her ears followed by the snarls of the animals going after prey. As the air vibrated with the electricity of hundreds of watchers, the smell of blood filtered into her nose; Something she likened to rusted blood and rotting flesh. The crowd fell silent soon thereafter, at least until the room was enraptured with the craze that came from the end of the battle for survival.

The railings of the balcony crashed into a fist. "He used a weapon."

"And the dogs outnumbered him five to one. Please add to the fact they have claws and fangs evolved to hunt." she shot back.

"That's cheating!" he snarled dangerously.

In response, Nunnally laughed. "Cheating? My dear sir, you never imposed any terms on this bet."

First rule of being friends with Milly: Always read loopholes.

"Guards!"

She swiftly realized what she did was both a good and bad choice. Good, because there were very few options at the time. But bad, that she only made him angrier.

She felt her wheelchair jerk ahead on its own, after a click on one of the grips. Nunnally tried her best to stay in her seat, but instead the the vibrations of the ground faded. Her shoulders grazed past wood chips, ripping some of her clothes in the process.

A jet of air blasted into her face when gravity rudely pulled her down. Fumbling at any control she could get a grasp on, the girl tried to find anything to stop her fall. Landing with the wheelchair might injure her more severely, but the chance, that one in a million chance it could land on the wheels instead, tempted her. Landing on her own would hurt her, kill her even. She just had to hope someone would catch her. Gritting her teeth, she hoped it would work.

Her chair landed first, crashing into some boarding; metal and wood scraped on each other and her in an agonizing symphony. Suddenly, a cold surface hovered in front of her face for just a moment, until she continued her downwards tumble.

Did she fall into the arena?

In an instant, the wind was knocked out of her by the harsh impact, and the sickly stench of blood fill her nose. Viscous warm fluid splashed all over her arms, chest, and head, and she was alive?

"You're the one that…." said a male voice, so close. It was young, about her age by her reckoning, and sounded so plain and emotionless. Like he was staring _through_ her instead of at her.

Nunnally took a moment to catch her breath. "...What's your name?"

He didn't answer. The sounds of gunshots and screams resounded from her previous location; Sayoko was alive, that much she knew. The boy who caught her turned his head based on his hot breath, probably to peer at where she fell from.

"Soran Ibrahim."

* * *

 _Quite a predicament you've been placed into._

CC lazily opened her eyes, the pitch black of whatever those men used for her cage met her with its uncaring embrace. These fools knew from trial and error that she couldn't die, and so her prison was vacuum sealed; by the time she perished once and revived, she was already breathing in her own carbon.

The Witch clenched her fists. She was used to rage, of the many lowly human emotions that she was numbed to long ago.

 _Caretaker?_

How odd. That… _thing_ rarely, if ever appeared for others. It would only manifest when something surprised her all seeing eye, the birth of a new code bearer, or with the universe itself at stake. Otherwise the entity made no real effort to shape the lives of mortals.

 _Time flows as a stream of unbidden water down it's path created for it by the past. Tis the era of a new fool._

CC smirked behind her bindings.

 _Such as your attempts to keep a promise to your previous contractor, her untimely death, the loss of her children, and your eventual capture. Such events had happened countless times before._

Damn Marianne. It was her fault she was taken by that idiot, Clovis. The boy's soldiers found out about her code by her own carelessness, and he spent a small fortune to try and harness it. Not once did he try going about it carefully, or just asking her nicely. Not that'd she'd give him an answer. The amount of dissection CC had to be put through… She might never die, but she did feel pain. Even immortal witches could grow weary of agonies.

She spent years under the prince's scrutiny. New scientists came and went after repeated failed attempts to learn of the code. Not until a man appeared by Colonel Madd did they stop torturing her, and started to get results.

 _The reversed Magician with great desire and callous ruthlessness, he creates with just a word._

The immortal couldn't help but agree with the other's impersonal words. Colonel Madd got farther than most she admitted; the drugs used to get her body to react with the code proved fruitful, and the dissections lasted longer with much more extensive tests to follow. A part of her was impressed with his inquisitiveness, set free by his lack of morals. To him pain was a tool, no different than a knife or a hammer.

She watched with odd fascination that Madd was able to create copies of geass, but those knockoffs lacked a code to give them stability. Subsequently the users perished as the power over-strained their bodies; a code was needed for them to survive, such was its nature. The result would lead to changing a host who could take a code bearer's curse. Madd's work was overall crude, yet he was making a remarkable amount of progress in understanding geass.

A hiss went into her ears as she raised her head back.

 _The reversed Chariot rights itself from within these walls._

In an instant, fresh air kiss her peeled lips, and she took a deep gasp. She winced, her eyes slowly trying to get used to the sudden light which assaulted her. Ragged coughs freely spilled past her, her pained lungs greedily lapping up fresh air.

 _ **"Emergency! Emergency! Code Red, All hands to level one Battle Stations, All hands to level one Battle Stations. Launch Knightmares!"**_

"DS, was this your..." her voice was muffled by the gag in her mouth, a sudden feeling of fire and heat piercing her back until her bindings loosened. Once she freed herself, her eyes stopped at the surroundings.

The room that housed her cage was no longer a drab metal lab, now everything seemed to be made of thick glass, the walls broken into tiny shards which glistened from the ceiling lights. Across from her prison was another room nearly identical to hers. Empty, isolated, and from inside the space was the image of girl she thought only existed outside of space and time.

"DS?"

The girl on the other side just looked at her once, drawing a card from a deck by her side.

 _The High Priestess waits for the Emperor._

"I see... A clone." CC murmured when the voice echoed in her mind. The girl was distinctively younger than what all Code Bearers saw when they'd meet the entity. Did Madd or one of the Geass Order create a test-tube baby? With no desire to get involved in the Caretaker's plans, she ripped apart whatever lose bindings her attire had, in case one of the soldiers decided to subdue her.

A shout and a call sounded off in another room, her sign to duck behind a door that opened opened soon later.

"One of them's gone!"

"We still have the Irregulars!"

In a flash, CC reached for an exposed spot. Her code shined red, the cascade of images and memories of C's World brought these men to a new level of agony. When the two soldiers dropped on the ground as catatonics, she liberated a discarded weapon and planted fresh holes between their eyes. Deciding to put an end to her stay here, she paused to think about the test subjects on the same floor as her. Perhaps she… no. She didn't have time, and they were going to die anyway.

An explosion rumbled the ground, causing her to slap a hand on the wall for a brace. Gunshots rang out behind her, and the witch took off in a sprint.

In the corner of her vision, the image of a boy with an eye patch surrounded by black clad soldiers appear out of another entrance way. The brown eyed boy frowned, reaching down to peer at the card left behind by the otherworldly interloper. With DS in the fight, VV and Charles would have their work cut out for them. But not her. Right now, she set her features into a hard line.

All she wanted was to give Clovis a piece of her mind.

* * *

 **Investigation of Gas Leak concluded to Sabotage!**

 **Evidence suggest a dastardly plot by terrorists!**

Suzaku clenched his hands, wrinkling the newspaper printed in English which told about a series of explosions a few nights ago. Damn, nothing went like he thought.

Everything blew up out of proportion; his countrymen were fighting back, damaging their chances of returning to peace. The terrorists were just swinging in anger, killing average, everyday people for no reason at all! It was pointless violence that solved nothing.

The boy slumped while he walked. "Lelouch… what would you do?"

"Hey! Does anyone here have what it takes to fight for the safety and security of your fellow Japanese!?"

Suzaku raised his head in a flash of anger, turning to a slowly growing crowd of people across the street. This group were recruiting terrorists as 'freedom fighters' out in the open, proudly waving flags of their nation without a care for the consequences. Didn't they know it would only make everything worse!?

There were thousands of Honorary Britannians out there, trying their best to make something of their lives. Doing their jobs, buying food, taking care of their families. If terrorism solved anything, anything at all…..

His arms fell slack against the wind, the newspapers in his hands tumbling from his limp fingers. Flying away, across the ghettos streets, only for an old voice to ring out in the broken down district. "Probably some asshole from the EU."

"Creating unrest so we can't progress into a peaceful zone." Suzaku turned to spy a man with grey eyes and equally graying hair. He wore a suit like a salaryman from the old days, a classic jacket and tie followed by a flat cap. With a tall and with a firm look set into his jawline, the man gripped the wrist of another man in his twenties, fresh out of school.

The brown haired teen failed to free himself from the iron grip. "Let go of me!"

"No Shin'ichirō! Your mother and I had enough!" he barked.

Suzaku could only gape; they were family, and the older man was going to give his son a hard talk. He peered down at his hands.

 _Father…_

"Yeah, enough you say. You bowed your head to those Brits!" the young man snarled

Suzaku whipped around like a speeding bullet. An Honorary? Here in the ghettos? A hard slap rocketed him from his thoughts, reminding him of the strike his own father did to him when he…

"And what do you have to say for yourself!?"

The teen looked just as shocked as he was. His eyes were glued to the pair, while the old man stood straight with his chest out. It reminded him of…

"I am Tamaki Todaka, former captain of the Imperial Japanese Defense Force. I fought in the war with the Britannians, to protect my wife and our two children. And no matter the struggle, we lost son. We couldn't keep up, our treaties with the EU didn't come." his voice was hard, but there was a nearly imperceptible quiver to his tone.

Guilt washed over him like a wave. "No-"

"Even if the Prime Minister died, our defeat was guaranteed. It's rumored he utilized _Harakiri_ to restore his honor, whether for himself, his family…"

Suzaku grit his teeth, fist clenched at his side. It was the only way.

Toudoh-sensei was the first to find the aftermath, just before his father died. In an instant, the old Colonel drew his katana, sharing a a silent moment with his father before he witnessed him in action. After a look, his father twisted the blade that he used to strike him, and spilled his insides to open air. Toudoh-sensei didn't falter, he just slashed downward. Even after all these years, the rolling of his father's head kept him up at night. That expression, that half scowl of raw determination...

 _Why wasn't his father angry?_

"Or maybe for Japan."

Japan was his life! Suzaki remembered the days of his father never leaving the office. He remembered the stacks of paperwork following him everywhere he went.

"What I'm saying is this: if this were a duel between samurai, then we lost fully, and without damage to ourselves. Like the aftermath of the _Battle in Tenmokuzan_ , and like the Sengoku Jidai. Britannia is nothing more than another Nobunaga. And Japan is to become part of Britannia."

Suzaku didn't, couldn't hear the man as he trapped himself into his own whirling memories.

 _Why? Why did that scowl look so accepting?_

"Don't dishonor your people more than you already have. Terrorists are not soldiers. Soldiers…" the older man paused. He watched as the son stopped moving to listen, no longer struggling to escape. Blood dribbled down his cheek from a bitten lip.

Why when everyone else cursed him, hit him, and disowned him? Why didn't Tohdoh-sensei….

"Soldiers are soldiers because we don't want people to die. Not because we want to fight."

Suzaku opened his eyes, as if it was the first time he did done so in such a long time. That was it, that was what he was missing until now. His eyes watered. Why Tohdoh-sensei did what he did, why he vanished after the surrender. What his father was trying to tell him so long ago.

 _It's do or die, Suzaku!_

"Give me a chance, Shin'ichirō. I can get you to school, and maybe you'll get to start your own bistro like you always wanted." the father placed a hand on his son's shoulder, gently now instead of forceful.

Footsteps started again when the older man and his son walked together. Limbs shuddering, he raised his head to meet the man's. In an attempt, Suzaku stood straight with his chest puffed out. "Sir."

"Hmm?" he paused, appraising the boy in front of him.

Tears spilled down his cheeks. Slowly but surely, he raised his hand in a salute. "Thank you."

He blinked, clearly taken aback. Eyes scanned and searched his every form, searching for a sign of deceit. The man took an intake of breath, recognition filled his gaze.

"As a man, move towards your light in post haste. Whatever it is that you're feeling, it will heal. In time."

Suzaku nodded shakily. The man and his confused son walked away, but not before the father called out for him: "Give em hell, young Kururugi."

 _Lelouch… I know what I'm doing now. I'm going to live, and I'm going to change things from within._

* * *

 **And here we are!**

 **I hope somethings didn't go over your head or was too subtle. It's still a 'bad chapter' when I look back.**

 **I'll see you on the next chapter! Comments are appreciated. Fun times are coming!**


	9. Chapter 9: It begins

**Once again, I am disappointed in how this chapter came out. Kept wringing my hair through this thing for a long, long time. Trying to figure out how things play out and how characters act at their ages. I ended up giving up; handing out freebies and played by ear.**

 **I especially was struggling on the last section starting at Julius's Monologue and wanted to add more things to show off it's impact...**

 **My own opinions aside from this chapter. Please enjoy!**

* * *

 **RLV Chapter: 9**

* * *

"TAMAKI?!"

A loud crash of a tray hit the serving table railing echoed in the chaotic Ashford Institute canteen, giving pause to the gossip between students. Kallen's eyes darted from side to side, checking to see if anyone decided to look up from what they were doing. A relieved sigh came over her as she turned to glare holes at the fool in question.

Tamaki, the idiot goofball of the Kozuki Resistance was here all this time! She frowned as the man stayed upright with a spatula up in the air in front of a cutting board with a set of meat lined up in a neat little array.

"Woah, Kallen. You scared me for a second." He even responded to her like it was just another day! She caught her fist right before she punched the metal railings, hoping it would help keep her cover.

"What the hell are you doing?!" She hissed. Taking a step back, her mind swirled into a storm of thoughts. "Did Naoto send you here to keep an eye on me?!"

Tamaki handed her a sad look which only deepened her fierce scowl. She watched the guy fidget under her gaze, twiddling a spatula in his right while the left hand fought the urge to scratch his cheek.

 _Hold on a minute._

"Do they… do they not know?" His silence was all that she needed to get the picture. Her mouth open up and down but not a sound came out.

Tamaki handed off a wavering grin. "I uhh, I wasn't thinking about telling them."

Kallen watched her comrade, her companion in arms, move to another part of his station to check on a pot all the while taking out vegetables to be diced up. She couldn't take it, why was he so laid back about this? This was, this was a betrayal!

Gritting her teeth, Kallen banged the wooden part of the counter to get his attention. "What do you mean, Tamaki?! I thought you were the one that was against the Britannians the most, and here you are. Let me guess, you're an Honorary. You have to be one to work around here."

"Look, Kallen. Let me explain-" Tamaki tried protesting.

"Explain what? We all thought you just went out drinking instead of coming to the meetings like usual." He visibly winced at her words. "But instead here you are. You abandoned the group, you abandoned the other Japanese that are suffering in Japan, you abandoned _Naoto_. And for what?"

Only the presence of other students kept her from screaming. "Some nice cushy job here. I bet the paycheck really lifts up your spirits, living in a slum block at the edge of the settlement."

"Damn it Kallen!" Tamaki snapped. An oven door slamming shook the counter above for a split second, causing her to jump back. Her glare didn't falter as the man growled under his breath. "Have you tried, and I mean _try_ to sit in your classes?"

"Why should I? I've got better things to than listen to old half-assed fogies talking about the history of Britannia and explaining the 'good' they hand out to their conquests. Meanwhile I found a working Glasgow for the next operations with Sugiyama; Raiding supply lines so we can hand them off to the families in the ghettos." Kallen's voice ended with a hint of pride, furthering the sense of divide between her and the man in front of her.

"You don't get it, Kallen. Look around you. They're all kids. You're a kid." He waved at her for emphasis, making her grit her teeth. He continued, shaking his head. "They don't know the things that you know."

"And whose fault is that?!" several heads turned towards her, and she inwardly winced at drawing attention to herself.

Tamaki sighed as he rubbed his brow. "Kallen, this is Ashford. If you're doing the same thing as you've been doing for your other schools, it's not going to end pretty. And you're not going to open up yourself."

"You think I need help from some pampered Britannians brats? The brats that ignore and laugh at other people's suffering?" Kallen curled her fists.

"Kallen, you're not listening!" Tamaki pleaded, earning a short huffed which he answered with a tsk. "Have you looked at your handbook, student and faculty list, the damn classroom for a whole session?!"

"I don't have time for that, just like listening to your traitorous prattle." She narrowed her gaze dangerously. While calling Ohgi from here was risky, she needed to inform the others as soon as possible.

Tamaki deflated. "Maybe seeing is believing. Turn around."

"What?" she raised a brow.

"I said, Turn around!" He gestured furiously.

Maybe giving him whatever bit of trust she had left would be enough, she thought. She rolled her eyes to let him know what she thought of him, and took a long time to turn herself fully. What greeted her eyes made her scratch her head.

One of the tables to her right had a boy in his mid teens, a Japanese teen, holding a book next to a Britannian and another person with dark skin but not as dark as some of the Afro-Britannians on the news. The Britannian wasn't talking down or threatening either one, they seemed… way too engrossed in the book.

Tamaki sensed her confusion and explained. "That's Yoshitake Tanaka, and beside him is Arnold Logan and Felipe Garcia. You getting the picture?"

Sure Tamaki wasn't the brightest light bulb of the bunch but the way he was going off right now made her think he really was more of an idiot than she thought; since it was _painfully_ obvious the headmaster was just using them for tax breaks and additional publicity. She was more disappointed in his naivete, and a seed of disgust grew in her stomach. A bunch of sellouts, taking the lip service of integration at face value. They had no idea they were being used just to give people the feeling of 'progress' or whatever drivel the news wanted to push.

"How's your station Mr. Tamaki?" she quickly turned towards the pompous voice, revealing a Britannian man with short blond hair and blue eyes. A cooking uniform and an apron was draped on him as he stared at Tamaki.

She watched with the expectation of what she saw every day. Tamaki was going to get a mouthful of insults, followed by a look of condescension and an upturned nose. Oddly a grin started to form, the sense of being right all along should have made her angry. She thought it was called for after his display of ignorance.

But instead she sneered when Tamaki responded, "Just fine, Chef. I had a bit of trouble with the oven."

"I can tell, I expected a mess when I got here. But instead everything looks right proper." The man said with narrowed eyes after taking a scan of the station and nodding. It left her speechless.

"Thank you, Chef." Tamaki answered with a grin, and Kallen thought she was about to gag at how nice the guy(both of them) was acting. She remembered in the past of how aggressive Tamaki was; even with the warnings from Ohgi and her brother, the older teen would actively make a mess, and cause a ruckus in front of the Britannians near the ghetto borders.

As the Britannian chef's gaze landed on her, Kallen quickly forced herself to look like the sickly girl she wanted everyone to assume she was. She fought the urge to scowl as the man asked with a pointed look, "Who's this? Did you get the girl's order?"

"She hadn't decided yet. This is Kallen Statdfeld." Tamaki introduced.

"The truant." He frowned, making her grit her teeth once more. He was pushing it as he ignored her, like she was unimportant. Instead, the Britannian took a whiff from the pan on the stove before having a taste. She watched as the man swished the liquid before giving out a hum. "Orange, Ginger, Miso and butter. This reduction is good. "

Unbelievable! He actually praised Tamaki for something. Kallen couldn't close her mouth as the man nodded with a smile.

"Thank you, Chef."

The Chef nodded curtly before walking away. "Keep it up."

As the man left, Tamaki had a _biggest_ shiteating grin on his face when he flippantly twisted to her.

"That doesn't mean anything. He's just handing out pats on the back for a good pet. It's patronizing." she snapped.

"Kallen..."

"You're being fooled! It's all a trick. They won't stop until we all bow our heads to them." she didn't let the Honorary respond as she stormed off. They were wrong, there's nothing good about the Britannians. All they did was leave the scraps to be picked up by deluded idiots.

Kallen's mood continued to sour as time went on. She gave Tamaki a chance and all she got was a ploy, a cheap trick somebody as dumb as him would fall for. But she couldn't stop the nagging feeling in her head. It kept telling her to stop and look around, to listen instead of sitting in a corner desk.

Knowing the feeling wouldn't stop if she didn't do anything about it. She surrendered and took a scan of her classrooms when she had the time.

What she saw made her more confused than before. Her first class was split evenly by ethnicity; A large portion was filled with Honoraries, and they weren't being treated the way she expected them to. They had conversations with the students, some looked like they were friendlier than others. Case and point, a whole group of rugby players had a Japanese in their arms, talking about how he'd kill it if he joined for a back position.

It wasn't possible, this must've been a joke. Britannia had a dozen areas that proved how completely despicable they were. But here, Regardless of where they came from; The Honoraries were being greeted with smiles. While everyone gave her the stink eye.

"What's wrong with this school?!" She nearly shouted in front of Tamaki again one day. Her comrade had the smuggest expression plastered all over his face. "Shut up! There has to be a reason."

"Not every Britannian is the same." He smirked.

Kallen needed all of her willpower to stop from tearing him limb from limb. "Fine, Let's say I believe that. Why does everyone give me that look?"

"What look?"

"The look I'd expect Numbers to be given." She answered tightly.

"Like I said, That's because you're doing the same thing you've been doing for your old schools." He explained easily. "The sickly attitude, not picking a club to attend, the 'random' leaves in the middle of class, or just vanishing for days on end."

"But I can play that off. You're telling me kids with Noble descent couldn't play around with their influence?" She rhetorically questioned, crossing her arms.

"Nobles don't have influence here, Kallen. The last one that tried got kicked out." her narrowed gaze made him stand up straighter. "They have a school culture here. That means expressing themselves if they feel it, They're allowed to pick and choose between classes, skipping a few for clubs or other important things. But the point is, you need to show that you're genuine."

Kallen scoffed. "Fine, Let's say I believe that. Why are you actually here then?"

"You know about Kanegawa?" he started, taking a moment to check on his pot.

"That hole of traitors and sellouts? Letting **King's field** walk all over them?" Kallen rolled her eyes. Everybody in the ghetto heard about that pit, how it was just a front to get people to work for dirt wages. During a couple meetings the group considered attacking their office, but Ohgi and Naoto vetoed the idea.

"I thought the same thing. They talked a good game, blah blah blah ya know? But listen. I'm here because I gave my dad a chance, he works for them somewhere in middle management, and I wanna see if they were gonna walk the walk." Tamaki's tone softened, displaying a grimace at her obstinacy.

"Investigating Kings Field huh?" She asked dubiously.

"What better way than through the stomach? That and I really wanted to see if it was true and all." He finished with a shrug.

She had to find a seat to process it all. They had to be joking, a ploy, the rules were being enforced, anything! There was no way those monsters had good intentions, not after all she'd seen. She backed out of the canteen's surreal atmosphere in a mad run, passing through multitudes of other students to find some space. She got herself close enough to the hall leading to the courtyard before smashing herself on a small blur.

Papers scattered all over the area, as a metal object crash landed behind her. Kallen reached the floor with an outreached hand, and with a twist righted herself back on her feet. She quickly collected herself, and twisted around to discover a girl with brown hair with her eyes closed. Whatever words she had caught on her throat upon recognizing a wheelchair. She watched the kid grunt a few times before moving her flimsy arms, trying to push herself back to her feet. The girl never opened her eyes.

Kallen gulped. "You-"

"Yes, I'm blind. _Thank you_ very much for noticing." The girl's first response was a stab to her gut. She wasn't just blind; the girl didn't seem like could even move anything below her waist. That didn't stop her from waving her hand in a deliberate shooing motion. "You don't have to worry about anything, I can handle it."

"I, um, I'm sorry." Kallen stammered, put off by the girl.

She caught a mumble from the girl, feeling the carpet with her fingertips. "I'll have to turn my chair over."

Although hesitant at first, Kallen nodded to herself, deciding it'd be best to help the girl out. She felt bad as the girl barely looked as if she knew where things were, let alone have the strength to get back up.

She hurriedly picked up the nearest pile of papers before speaking "Your documents flew everywhere. At least let me help you."

The girl gave off an exasperated sigh. " _Fine_."

"No wait. I'll get your chair." Kallen suddenly darted over, still holding onto the papers.

She just about stopped when the girl answered quickly. "That's not necessary."

"I insist." Kallen pushed without missing a beat, raising a brow at the girl while a hard tug made the chair land back on it's wheels. The whole time her expression was filled with concern. "Do you need help getting up?"

"I can handle that on my own." Kallen landed a hand on the girl's shoulder just as she snapped, forcing her to back off. "I said I'm fine!"

The redhead took a deep breath as she watched the girl slowly crawl, landing her forehead to the backrest of the wheelchair. A faint mumble reached Kallen's ears. "I don't need your pity."

Pity? No, it wasn't pity. Kallen thought. She was willing to help the poor girl get back on her chair, since she obviously couldn't get up without titanic levels of effort. She doubted the girl would also be able to pick up her things without crawling all over the floor, and even if she _could_ it would take hours to get everything squared away.

The girl was basically usel-

Kallen shook her head at that train of thought. Instead she pulled out a nervous smile. "I think we've gotten on the wrong foot…" The girl scoffed, but still she introduced herself. "I'm Kallen, and you are?"

"Elaine, I was on my way to Professor Fermi's office to hand off some of my brother's paperwork." The blind girl replied brusquely.

Kallen raised a brow, not caring at the paper's ordering. "Your brother's?"

"Warned me about going too fast." Elaine mumbled, shaking her head. "Anyways, yes. Juju usually doesn't have enough time in the day to show up everywhere, but he hoped he'd be able to speak to his teachers before getting to work. New ideas for him to get feedback."

Juju? The name sounded odd to her. It didn't come off as a normal name, so it was probably a pet name. Thinking nothing about it, Kallen continued to pick up as much fallen debris as possible with Elaine snatching some of her own along the way. While Kallen was interested in Elaine's practiced movements, one glimpse at a paper grabbed her undivided attention.

"Quantum Computing, Artificial Carbon Crystal Lattice Structure, Ion Storage, Microflow Cellular Batteries." Kallen rifled through the papers, each skimmed line confusing more and more as she read them to herself. _Atomic Synthesis, Hydrothermal generators, Solar Energy Storage, Electric railing, Guided Automobiles…_ The papers went on and on. She had to shut her eyes in fear of bleeding from result of looking at the complicated formulas. A wash of dizziness came over her at just trying to make sense of anything.

The redhead cringed as she turned a page. On this paper was a scarily accurate sketch of a spine being surgically opened, revealing bones grafted with metal pieces and lines leading to some other unknown object. She just winced looking at the thing, only for her gaze to on a little post-it note held on by a staple.

 **Project A.L.I.C.E.**

Elaine cleared her throat. "Yes, if you don't mind."

"Sure." Kallen said, willing to hand off whatever mad science that this Juju character was planning. The stuff wasn't _just_ too advanced for some students; she expected the material would go over a lot of professional's heads if they ever got the chance to look. She jostled the pile to straighten them until a little flash drive tumbled in her hand. She Tilted her head, eyes narrowing. She recognized the symbol emblazoned on the side.

Kallen held a breath, handing the papers to the young brunette. "Here. I have to go."

"Of course, Kallen. Try not to get kicked out in the first week!" her voice picked up, evidently catching on to her flight.

Kallen's legs moved fast and it didn't take long to reach the school's main entrance. Looking around, the redhead checked to see if her surroundings were clear. With a ruffle of her pockets, she stared at the flash drive with the symbol of a stylized KF.

Juju, Julius. Julius Kingsley! She needed to find out what was on the drive, as soon as humanly possible.

* * *

 **0000**

* * *

Tappings of multiple keyboards sounded off poignantly in the silence of the observation room. Julius took in the scene laid outside the front panel of glass, and spoke with a shallow breath. "How are they?"

"Stable." A man with short blonde hair in a bowl cut and goatee answered without hesitation. The doctor recovered in Area Six was quite the upstanding man he reflected.

Julius nodded without taking eyes off the glass. "Any complications?"

"None, thankfully."

He looked down, observing the group of women in the standard negative pressure isolation zone they had available. The military facility they raided held five still living test subjects, courtesy of Clovis's Code R project. His foppish brother thought the entire affair was a write off, and Julius ensured it looked the part.

"Unbelievable!" Ian Vashti exclaimed, pouring over the data streaming in the consoles. The bespectacled man was usually expressive about his feelings, but today there was an extra powerful gleam to his eyes.

Julius had to agree. When he and his troops first met the women, they were each isolated from each other inside glass cages, clad in nothing but featureless gowns. IV needles and pads stuck to their forms as they kept the air of defeated souls, surrendering their future to an unknown madman. He doubted they would resist his men should they have decided to silence them.

That was why he decided to at least make their situation more communal, under his supervision at least. One large isolation chamber with five separate beds, with only empty gaps instead of a wall. It allowed him to take a detailed look into their quirks and habits.

A girl called Mao was the most obvious of the bunch, freely showing her distrust of him and his team. It wasn't surprising, but there was a reason he allowed transparency through his observation deck and the room across from him. Every movement of Dr. Moreno's typing or his head swerving were tracked by the girl's hazel eyes. The bluenette paced back and forth the chamber far from the beds, but not close enough to touch the glass windows, like a lion prowling it's fence. His skin prickled every time he was in view of the chamber, knowing she was usually the culprit.

Jeremiah made his objections to the layout crystal clear, but Julius kept the arrangement. Logically speaking, it was pointless to over secure the room; truly isolating the girls would prove more a setback if the records of their 'abilities' weren't the ramblings of madmen.

The blonde of the group nodded, malice layering his tone. "It's unethical, cold, sociopathic."

Julius nodded to show his opinion on the matter. While the caution and procedures of the black zone research was understandable considering their acclaimed 'powers,' the Britannian scientists had themselves to blame for creating it. Case in point, the blue haired girl. He restrained a shiver upon remembering what the records indicated.

The power was so similar to the drug infesting ghettos across Japan, thus it was given the name, ' _The Refrain.'_ He knew of the defenses against it as noted by the files, but he realized she most certainly hid other uses the power had. To look at one's past, read one's mind, and control a person based on those abilities, quite likely allowing the user to experience the victim's history as well.

"Does Clovis know?"

The women on the other side locked their sights on him the moment he spoke. None of them moved with a natural grace, being stiff as a board with the proverbial cat with their tongues. They were still on the mutual observation stage in their relationship, thus he made no effort to cloak his actions.

Julius had to liken it to the beginnings of a chemical reaction.

"From the data, I don't think so. These were 'created' without his knowledge." Doctor Moreno said, shaking his head.

Julius scoffed. "Then one less crime aside from the sin of envy."

The girl known as Dalque kept her hands on any small object she found, as if it were a toy or a weapon to be used in case things went awry. All the while she kept herself splayed onto her bed, a clear sign of boredom, or laziness. The laid back appearance shadowed her distaste for the cage, yet slight movements and jerks show the inner energy she possessed. It wasn't hard to see her thought process, considering the nature of her ability being the only one that was physical in nature: the power to augment her physical strength. No doubt her rebellious nature was created from resisting tranq darts and the like, as well as any guard who got rough with them.

It was night and day compared to her sister Lucretia. That one was meek; she sat still with her knees hugged up to her chest, while pale hair was draped over her shoulders. Overtly quiet, didn't make a sound when Moreno took her blood for testing, not to mention how stiff she was in the MRI. Looking at her was like gazing upon a storefront mannequin, or a corpse.

"Greed as well, what was he hoping to do? Earn or fight for the throne?" Ian asked, confused as he scratched the back of his neck.

"He shouldn't have that much ambition." Julius dismissed.

"Only the oldest and closest in the line of succession would even think about it." Moreno agreed, checking his display.

He nodded, expression grim. "Not to mention killing for a new position is implied to be forbidden. A hint of suspicion, and it's _goodbye_."

Interaction-wise; the oldest of the group, Sancia, was the de facto leader. The dark haired girl was the one who initially commanded the others to follow them when his troops started to clean themselves of any involvement. She was also the one that reined in the others for his own testing, albeit less invasive. Calm and collected, the girl subsequently spent most of her time taking turns monitoring the others and watching them in the observation room. It was essentially because of her abilities and Lucretia's that they did _not_ tint the window, or made it a one way mirror.

"One of the few that Emperor Charles ever taken seriously with his personal iron fist." Julius said quietly.

The screen in front of him appeared on top of the glass panel, a small invention he decided to improve on for the sake of convenience. It was a far cry from true holographic technology, but he was close. His fingers hovered just a centimeter away and with a swipe he began; In a few seconds the speakers pinged his confirmation to allow one of the doors to disengage. The status of negative pressure rescinded, and the door slid open into a blanket of soft light.

"Julius!" His assistant bolted upwards in alarm.

He raised his hand, acknowledging the concern, "It's alright, Ian."

"I have to disagree. They're dangerous, not to mention they'll be volatile based on their previous experiences. I recommend easing them in." His brow twitched at the concern from Dr. Moreno. He had to smirk at their concern; did they forget, or did they push it down in favor of experience?

Julius smirked. "One must take the first step if the other party does not. I prefer Symbiosis over Parasitic. Or if we must get philosophical-"

"I get it." the scruffy man surrendered, raising his hands up.

The girls looked confused at the idea of him being willing to open their cage. He knew they were obviously suspicious, thanks to his brother's less than humane methods. He nodded to the door. "I'll be at the end of the hallway. Take your time."

"We'll be watching" Ian nodded. Julius thanked them for the information, taking a leisurely stroll to his intended meeting spot.

The walls of his facility rested in a peculiar spot; he purchased the three acre land for a modest price from the previous owner, with the special attribute of being a straight five minute shot to Ashford. A quick jaunt once he created the railway system between the two locations. He planned to purchase more land to expand it further to the base of Kanegawa and Akihabara, both of which he likewise owned.

His thoughts were halted as an automatic door slid open, revealing fresh yet warm air wafting against his face. Sunlight peeked through the glassy walls of his geodesic biome greenhouse, all around him plants of various species growing at optimum temperatures, glistening from their recent watering. He walked across the defined roads under the shade of fruit trees to reach the small pavilion; Julius raised his brow at an occupant waiting for him.

Yes, the one woman that was separated from the others at the research facility. The one with no name; only a set of initials, _DS_.

 _This_ one was not like the others, given a special cell of her own without contact with the rest of the experiments, granted only a deck of cards as her companion. A nudge in his mind told him to remember the destroyed cell opposed to the woman, how it's contents were reduced to only a set of leather wraps as a clue. He shook his head at the thought, turning to look at the girl with no true name.

"I see that you aren't as suspicious as the others." He said aloud, standing by the main table which held a pot of hot water and a package of tea. Steam wafted off the pot in a slow hypnotic rhythm, along with an alluring odor. Julius watched the girl rest the back of her head on her chair, slowly turning to meet his gaze.

The girl replied, tone even and unfaltering. "The root of suspicion is a lack of knowledge. An emotion that is rationally a useless pain, impending human action."

That made him smile. "An interesting notion. But I believe you would have ample reason to be suspicious, doubting my honesty if you used the ones that held you captive before as a standard."

"Is there no notion of faith?" She inquired back.

Julius pushed himself to the enclosure's side as he listened with his face turned away from her. It was without a doubt a sign of ease if anyone was watching. His lack of concern poignant for all to see, and he waited to see what she might do next.

The sounds of metal groaning and ruffled cloth had him note the girl likely pulled herself up to get comfortable. Turning back, he was proven right as the girl grasped her legs, the chair's spine dangling her two toned hair of black and pink, like a cat. He made it to her personal space before the girl could think about pushing away.

Julius propped a palm on the table right in front of her to make his point known. "Faith is an imitation of the idea known as trust."

"Or is it confidence?"

He steeled his features into a mask of inquiry, but inside Julius was smiling. That was a provoking thought; What hint or information lead her to that conclusion? It was without a doubt if his people carried different badges and insignias, they'd look just like another faction from within the Britannian military, Royal family even. His facilities shared the same standards, the same weapons, the same professional demeanor. So how?

With a smooth walk to sit in front of the woman, Julius trailed his fingers on the rim of the table, "What makes you confident that I'm not like those of Colonel Madd's retinue?"

The strange woman kept her mouth shut at that.

"How about introductions? I am Julius Kingsly, and you are?" he gestured to himself and back to her.

"I have no name. But I guess that goes for both of us." she went simply.

A flash of worry claimed his inner mind all but for a second. He frowned just slightly to make him look offended. "Why do you say that?"

"Life in a glass room doesn't do much. As my captors watched me." The woman started with her hand in a swaying motion, her head tilted to the glass walls. Her eyes landed right back on him. "I watched them."

"I have a tell?" Julius raised a brow, eager to see more, but relieved that he hadn't been found.

"I'm an observer. I'm not interested in your name. But… you are interesting" the woman nodded to him, a knowing smile cusping her lips.

"I see." Julius responded half heartedly; he was communicating to what was essentially an analyst. It seemed all the effort for his reveal was going to waste. "I take it you know what I am about to propose."

"I have a prediction."

"Spoken like a seer." He exclaimed, leaning back against his chair. His hand moved to his breast pocket to pull out a slip, revealing it to be a tarot card. An old superstitious, if not faddy way for divination. "What am I? The fool of your future sight?"

"So speaks the futurist." the woman replied, all without changing her expression.

"Do I make it out to be one?" he posed, flipping the card onto the table.

Another smile was his response. "War is engaged for two reasons. Preservation, and change. You chose to not walk into the world. You ran."

"Sometimes you have run before you can walk."

"Or there's something you want to change."

He shot back at the girls mental exercise. "Why isn't it preservation?"

The woman leaned close, her body pushing against the table in front of him, face to face, and smiled. "I don't think you're that type of man."

His smirk must have been apparent, as he noticed a glimmer of amusement in the woman's eyes. There was something odd about her, maybe it was her pose or demeanor; his thoughts went back to the tarot card that he took from her deck... or maybe it was simply the idea that she knew everything was going just the right way she thought it would.

And that… was dangerous.

A set of coughs garnered both of their attentions. The same ones that he observed earlier finally showed up, although some kept at attention, while others were reluctant.

At last, he made himself comfortable, finally able to suggest ideas that would benefit both of them. He gestured with a wave. "Please, take a seat. Tea anyone?"

* * *

 **0000**

* * *

"Sir, the crowd is congregating at this moment. Seats will fill in the next few hours." Julius nodded without looking back. Diethard didn't take offense.

"Good. I'll send a message to Mr. Crank to double check the perimeter. I don't want anything to ruin this." For once Julius had a smile with no implication behind it, as a glass screen slid open for him to sit at the center of his 'workshop'. His attention was solely on a piece of equipment in his grip; in front of him was an oblong tube like shape that had poles sectioned to the four corners of the metal casing, making it gyroscopic. A representation of a seat was screwed into the base, set in a reclining position. His version of a cockpit for his Knightmare.

"A big day Julius."

"Yes, I suppose so." he said, deciding to sit down as a jazz tune filed the room's speakers. He gave the man a pointed look when he noticed the thing on the tripod. "That camera"

"It's nice to have an interview before or after the fact. A common practice." Diethard responded quickly enough. He nodded, that was indeed the norm with the media.

"You have questions for me then?" he inquired, already going over his newest tidbit.

"A few that will help shed some light for the masses." The man said with a grin. Julius filled in the blanks only to agree with the unspoken thought.

"Lot of headlines and softballs I wager." he smirked.

A click and press at the camera had it up and running faster than he could stop an oil spill from staining his shirt. Julius shook his head, not bothering to clean up. Such was the perils of working with equipment.

"Alright." he agreed.

Diethard looked confused, gazing blankly at the room before speaking. "Here?"

"Yes." he nodded. "You did say something about shedding light for the masses. What other way…"

"Than to hand them a sight of you at their level." A snap of his fingers had Diethard snatching a chair to plop in front of him, eager to start with the interview.

Julius chuckled. "No man begins clean at the top."

 _3… 2… 1…_

The camera was on, the red live feed blinking for both men to see. Now the game was on.

"Mr. Kingsley, many viewers around the world are already wondering, what do you hope to gain from doing this? I mean the Knightmare business." Diethard began without an introduction.

Julius nodded, pulling out a set of pliers to work on his cockpit. Might as well hand the rest of the world a glimpse of how far along he was with his Gloucester-killer, he decided. "That does come off as a surprise. I hadn't expected to join in."

"The market contains many contractors and subcontractors. Material distribution, piece by piece manufacturing. Bowie, G&K, Britannian Electric to name a few, already have the infrastructure to create Knightmares and then the maintenance, testing, refinement, and distribution of those Knightmares."

In response Julius gave him a puzzled look. "In whatever world did you think I'd be selling my creation?"

"Isn't that the most logical conclusion?" Diethard raised a brow, leaning in to get a better position.

"Yes. I'd have to agree with you on that." he started, reaching for a drawer next. "However, I have no intention of selling my Knightmares as of this moment."

"It is true that you're, shall we say, lacking. You've started much further behind the race. Are you thinking about contacting any of the already existing companies? They do have some previous experience."

"And that experience is what I'm wary of." Julius responded, dropping a screwdriver in favor of a USB wire connected to a panel of keys and glass. "Tell me. When was the last time there was an explosive breakthrough with those companies, nay any company?"

"Such as?"

"Vaccines, Immunotherapy, Synthetic Blood." he continued when he noticed the other man was silent. "Computers, Automobiles, Interconnectivity, Programming… Jets."

In the corner of his vision, Diethard smirked at his plan. "I see where you're going. But doesn't that mean you're hogging everything, in their eyes?"

Julius waved his hand away like he was shooing away a pack of dogs. "If they needed help, they should come to me. Not the other way around. Besides, word around the grapevine has me at a twenty three to one hundred and fifty eight coming out on top."

"Many experts have considered that you won't be able to produce a Glouchester Killer in time. It's even worse that there's been no word of a representative of your interests at the Lake Kawaguchi Convention Center for the Sakuradite talks. You're effectively giving up; The most central aspects of Knightmare creation relies on Sakuradite."

Julius couldn't help but laugh at the thought. The cause might have been his muddled desire to shove it to the rest of the world, especially Britannia, but he fully understood that the moment he stood up, things were about to change.

"Leonardo Da Vinci, Henry Ford, Alexander Bell, Henry Talbot, Nikola Tesla." he shot back, moving away from his chair to give the camera a long look at what he was working on. "What man flourished with some obscure rock that was unmanageable to maintain, and doubly so for it's limited supply?"

He knocked on a transparent table, letting the man and camera lens to turn to his direction. Julius leaned down for a clear piece of glass from a table, made of the same material.

"What true worker of the arts blames the ingredients he uses? What they make, or can't make isn't based on their access of expensive resources."

A chime left the music when he put a finger on his glass, and there was an abrupt silence. Light shined on his tablet until a rudimentary but highly functional GUI appeared.

Julius flicked his hand just after wrapping an unassuming metal band around his wrist, causing a metal case beside him to promptly opened to reveal a robotic arm. Easily seen lasers pointed at his wrist before scanning the rest of his arm, from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder. He then gestured wildly, earning a gasp from the journalist, for the robotic arm and his organic one moved in sync. Absolutely perfect with no margin of error. When his arm fell into his lap, the metal limb copied him exactly.

"Nothing in this building was made with a single gram of Sakuradite." he grinned mockingly. "I can do it with all of this. I'll do it with Knightmares."

Diethard ignored the boast in favor of asking a highly anticipated question. "Are you going to license these to other companies?"

"I apologize for showing them this early. They aren't ready." Julius smirked at both man and camera.

"What do you mean?!" Diethard demanded, having the gall to appear completely floored. "They look perfectly shippable. Companies would pay, no, kill even for just these."

"I have no doubt they would." he replied, an unsubtle jab at a few existing companies that were already trying to market their own devices. Theirs were cheap in comparison; Three inch thick computers and rudimentary arms were showcased by a company, that without a doubt had the resources to make something better. The very thought made him a sneer at the camera. "The tablet computer isn't where I'm stopping. These will become holographic screens for a start. The arm however isn't at the distribution state in its development phase."

He continued as he noticed the man didn't ask another question. "You could consider this is the reason why I'm in this race in the first place."

"So that statement of a bet with the Earl of Pudding and the Lady Professor of India are true? You're practically wagering everything." in spite of his awed tone, Diethard was grinning from ear to ear.

"Indeed." A cold fire blazed in his eyes, "You played with fire. Not handing me your notes on cybernetics, Professors. I will show you and the rest of the world that my terms were quite agreeable to you."

Before he dismissed the man, Julius gazed right into the camera lens.

"Just don't expect mercy when we meet again in New Delhi. I'll blow your pride to smithereens."

* * *

 **0000**

* * *

"Thank you everyone for coming."

If anyone expected an ostentatious event for his planned speech, Julius was glad to have disappointed. Kanegawa airfield was his choice of venue, featuring a picturesque view by the seashore, plenty of foliage, and squat grey buildings surrounding several runways.

He was extremely glad everything was going to be torn down for replacement after the event. His testing grounds and development labs needed the best. It was his land, thus he could do whatever he wished to the place.

All he set up tor this day was a small stage and camera crew, as well as a podium. Plus enough seats for the several dozen handpicked visitors, many of whom looked uncomfortable in the bright sunlight of this warm day. But that didn't stop the hundreds of others that got themselves in by relation as employee, observer, or just plain bystander. Julius himself was clad in his black ensemble, and looked completely unflappable; a small cooling rig under his clothes helped admittedly, but the guests didn't need to know that.

"I should say, first of all, how much I've been impressed and encouraged by the breadth of view of the proportion which I have found in the Areas of Britannia. Our watchers do not understand the size and solidarity of everyone in this little space of ours might easily have expected to find an excited, uneasily obsessed, and queer atmosphere, with all minds fixed upon the startling, and painful differences of our creations. After all, whom here expect-"

Julius unexpectedly frowned. The crowd went silent, confused at his abrupt stop. The camera zoomed in to reveal the teen quickly ripping up the notes in his hands. "Actually, let's forgo the notes."

Murmurs spread throughout the body of people; he allowed the noise to subside before he spoke again. Smirking, he raised an outstretched hand towards the crowd.

"I'd like to start off with an observation."

"In the world at large, despite the cutthroat politics of Pendragon, Lady Marrybell is making strides to clean up the corruption infused mess the previous Viceroy of Area Six so generously left for her. That isn't to say the other Areas are any better, but they do have a stable form of leadership. Needless to say, Lady Merrybell is going to be knee deep in paperwork for the next year or so. Perhaps longer."

His tone was level and easy, one hand on the podium next to his microphone while the other gestured to his surroundings.

"That's very similar to the state of Europia United. Last anyone heard, multiple council members have been arrested. Arrested! Can you believe the dishonor? Members of their own citizens council have started their own witch hunt, mirroring the actions of Lady Merrybell to the T. Of course, Europia United has taken strides to remove the sullied hands of the corrupt as people cheer on."

A satisfied murmur swept through the Britannians, although he noted a few Chinese functionaries looked cross at his chosen direction.

"That's not much coming to their Numbers. What? You expect me to call them… refugees? Let's use our skills of observations shall we? If the EU truly condemned the Number system, why would they keep these people locked up in ghettos? Oh excuse me, designated refuge centers."

Snickers left segments of the crowd, quite unlike the now openly glaring Euro delegation. He swiped his hand for silence, and the crowd obliged.

"The living conditions in Europe for the numbers are nearly, if not exactly identical to the untouched ghettos of both Britannia and China. The people sleep in tents, others not so lucky in their poorly maintained buildings that certainly wouldn't be given safety approvals by officials. They're recruited for the most menial labor with the compensation that barely eked out a life for them. That wasn't to mention the lackluster, and under-supplied ration cards."

That got a reaction, but this time it wasn't childish glee; only a couple Britannians looked pleased by his words, the rest appeared distinctly uneasy by his flat condemnation.

"Some Europia United member states have put forward proposals to classify Elevens in their territories as legal Britannian subjects, thus are liable to be deported. What do you say to this measure?"

A convenient breeze removed the traces of sweat on his brow, a nice punctuation to his bold statement. Even the most hardline officials weren't keen on such a proposal, even before the obvious ethical issues. Julius gave a moment of silence before he proceeded.

"That isn't to say Britannia isn't much better. Since the induction of Kanagawa of Area Eleven and Valencia of Area Six; Britannia is of course striving to improve the overall condition of the ghettos, piece by piece. Despite setbacks."

His tone went cold. The teen actually needed to stop himself from focusing his gaze, peripherally noting quite a few guests squirming in their seats. Even a couple of the cameramen exchanged uneasy looks.

"But what our neighbors, the Chinese to our west? The Federation looks as if their entire country was a ghetto outside of their commercialized districts. The changes in people, technology, and appearance of their cities compared to one another are staggering. Their rich hoard form their poor, not unlike the rest of the world. But I digress."

His gesturing hand fell just like his gaze, giving an almost paternal shake as he refocused his expression.

"One would say the problem of all this is War. That much is true. The military elite of Europia United and the Chinese Federation continuously draft their subjects- sorry, citizens into service with meager resources, improper training, and shove into the meat grinder. Britannia fare much better, however it has its own problems."

"The forces Britannia ranged against the world is breathtaking. As acting commander of the frontline armies, Princess Cornelia leads her troops ruthlessly, unyielding, and with bitter intent. She stops at nothing, with the vast accumulations resources and weapons of war at her disposal; her army's path is unwavering. The Britannian forces are highly trained and disciplined, they have plans and designs highly contrived, yet not an ounce of it failed to show results."

Applying just enough admiration to his voice yielded plenty of approving nods. Just what he wanted prior to yanking the rug out from under them.

"That is to say the world would be theirs, if Britannia had those highly trained and well equipped at the positions that required their expertise. The military is the belly of an old beast that has long since rotted from the inside out. The army moves at a slow crawl, the operations her troops wage are lackluster and uninviting. The commanding officers are more likely to peruse the lounges for entertainment rather than conquest with honor in the name of their homeland." Displeased murmuring roiled like a wave, although fortunately nobody was bold enough to stand up. If they did the guards he brought along would reseat them in short order.

A shadow covered the ground behind him, swiftly rolling over him and then the crowd. The brief shade from a cloud wasn't going to last long, and once it left, the beating sun would claim all those unprepared to handle its might. A part of Julius wondered if the unplanned weather was prophetic.

"War is cruel, and yet none haven't experienced the true cruelty of man. Our war continues, subjected to minor breaks before returning in full force again and again. There is no instance in history of a nation benefiting from prolonged warfare. So what is Britannia, or even the rest of the world, benefiting from this?"

Again his hand was held out, seeming to silence the guests and guards alike. As he spoke the fingers curled in on themselves.

"Is there no sight of empathy? No instance of compassion, Is there no vision other than the oldest act in history?"

When his fist slammed onto the podium for emphasis at his displeasure.

"This is where I disagree. There is something more, something so profound and something beyond our understanding that we as a species neglected to take. Copernicus, Kepler, Newton, Galilei… Einstein. The great mystery of all, with it's mesmeric allure and unlimited potential calls. She calls for each and every one of us. To strive and reach something that makes all previous achievements becomes child's play. The final frontier."

Now both his hands rose, seeming to show the empty field behind his podium, empty save for many nondescript warehouses. Even the masses of tarp by the shore appeared so bland, hiding the freshly purchased _Kuznetsov-class_ aircraft carrier being refitted even now.

"This planet can certainly be our cage, but it is also a nest for the chicks to leave the roost. Let us build the road together; to revel in her majesty and gain the freedom we so rightly are destined."

When Julius gripped the podium's sides, he affixed a dangerous smile upon the crowd.

"I will liberate you from Hell."

* * *

 **0000**

* * *

"It's seems my lead was not as large as I thought. Although his rhetoric sounds like nonsense." Schneizel mused, watching the events unfold through a monitor. The prince leaned back in the conference room elsewhere in Pendragon, the capital of Britannia. He turned to the man lounging off to the side, beyond him a warehouse window depicting a scene of dozens of technicians working on the internals of a knightmare. "Wouldn't you agree Doctor Asplund?"

"Ahhh~" the Earl chuckled. Lloyd smiled a rare crooked visage. "I wouldn't say that~"

The lavender haired man looked far at the image of befuddled men and women during the speech, staying his gaze at the boy he met a few months ago. A thought ran though his mind, "I like him."

"I do admit, This will be an interesting race." The prince smirked at the implications of the next upcoming years.

* * *

 **0000**

* * *

A skinny man in ruffled up clothes shakily kneeled. "Your majesty."

"Out with it." The Emperor spoke without preamble. He ignored the sight of his subject in favor of keeping an intense gaze at the screen in front of him, paying no mind to the other's state of being. He huffed.

"Your majesty, this man... he's not just ahead of us, he's so far beyond our own base we don't know where to begin! He could stop right now and it'd take us a decade to catch up."

Charles breathed deep, throat rumbling with his displeasure. The subject of his did little but explain the obvious. Soon after the man was quickly taken away by a pair of guards, and then only he and his Knight of One remained.

It started small. So very light, as if it was a whisper of the drafts from the palace's humming central air. The seeming titter only made the Knight of One stiffen, with his face slowly turning pale. The Emperor murmured, "Really? Is that your end goal?"

 _Between the lines. It's almost like ours._

The grand throne room soon echoed with the mad laughter of Charles, his visage so open and surreal. Compared the man's resting face, or the constant look of derision seen his eldest children, this was as if a mirror was cracked. The booming snickers turned howl soon returned to silence.

"Let us see who gets there first." Charles grinned, looking upon the recordings, his expression became the definition of anticipation. " **Lelouch**."


End file.
